


Bigmouth Strikes Again

by project_icarus



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Car Sex, Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Outdoor Sex, POV Second Person, Period Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Secret Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:07:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/project_icarus/pseuds/project_icarus
Summary: Your uncle Sully will have an aneurysm if he finds out, but you don't care. Tonight is the night you seduce Samuel Drake. If he keeps coming back for more, you'll just have to be extra careful to keep it a secret.
Relationships: Samuel Drake/Reader
Comments: 142
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

Sam’s hand is warm on the small of your back as he guides you through the party.

“Drink, dear?” he says, spying a waitress making the rounds.

“God, yes.” No one gets all dolled up in a slinky black dress like this to stay sober. And you could use the courage—tonight is the night you seduce Samuel Drake.

You’ve worked with him, on and off, for about two years; getting into scrapes and flirting up a storm. It's no secret that you've got a thing for older men, and although you've not seen him with anyone quite as young as you, you're not worried. He's no stranger to having a woman hanging off his arm, a decade between them.

Let's hope two decades don't scare him.

Over the past few months, things have intensified (for you, at least). The sexy daydreams are bordering on obsessive, it’s time to get this man out of your system.

A good, hard fuck should do the trick.

“I’ll be right back.” He leaves you with a wink, and you wait for him, fiddling with the fake ring on your finger.

He’s hot as hell in his suit and tie, and the waitress agrees, if her gushing smile is anything to go by. No doubt he’s turned the charm up to max in that way he does with everyone, but with you only when your uncle Sully isn’t around.

He’s not around now, a fact that you’ll take full advantage of tonight. You’ve been waiting for this opportunity for months.

You roll your eyes when Sam returns to you, and accept the offered champagne flute. “Samuel, since you’re pretending to be my husband, could you also pretend to be faithful?”

He snorts. “What, I’m not allowed to flirt with waitresses now? You getting jealous over here, doll?”

Yes. “Hardly. I’m just reminding you to stay in character.”

“Sweetheart, there’s not a husband in all the world that doesn’t have a chronic case of the wandering eye.”

“Oh yeah? I wonder what Nate would say to that.”

“All right, all right, point made.” He leans in to you. “You’ll have my full, undivided attention. I hope you can handle it.”

“I can handle it.”

He holds your gaze for a moment, his eyes smouldering. Why does he never kiss you? He wants to, doesn’t he?

“You’re all bark and no bite,” you say.

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, really? Is that what you think?”

“Until proven otherwise.”

He shakes his head at you. “You’re unbelievable.”

Nothing is better than getting under his skin, even if it never goes anywhere.

Recovering, he raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. “Get a load of these people, huh? I remember when plastic surgery was a taboo subject.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, you could talk about Botox all day, and no one here would raise an eyebrow.”

You groan. “I want a divorce.”

He laughs, that annoying, shit-eating grin of his making itself known. “Oh, c'mon. That was funny.”

Against your best wishes, a giggle escapes you. “No, it wasn’t. It was terrible. You’re terrible.”

“There’s that gorgeous smile,” he says, knocking your shoulder with his.

“We should mingle, or something.” You turn your burning face away from him to watch some of the other guests dance.

“Honey, if you want to dance, you only have to ask.”

“You can dance?”

“I’ve been known to bust a move or two, when the mood strikes.”

You giggle, remembering the drunken get-together at Christmas last year. “Please don’t start doing the robot again.”

“Well, you’re no fun. Fine, have it your way.”

You neck the last of your champagne, as the band switches tempo to play something slower, and more intimate.

You’ve seduced men more virtuous than Sam Drake, this should be a walk in the park.

“Dance with me.”

He breaks into a grin. “It'd be my pleasure.”

The waitress from before passes by you again, and he places your empty glasses on her tray. She looks quietly miffed when he doesn’t spare her a second glance, instead returning to your side.

You could get used to this.

Too long have you watched from the side-lines as he flirts with strangers. He parades a different girlfriend up and down every time you see him.

But tonight, it’s your turn to be the centre of attention.

He takes your hand in his and leads you out onto the gilded dancefloor, pulling you in close for a slow dance. His easy smile is at odds with the furious beating of your heart. Can you wipe that smile off his face somehow?

“You smell great,” he says. “Is that a new perfume?”

“Yeah, I bought it specially for tonight.”

If he’s hamming it up, so are you.

He chuckles. “I’m a lucky guy.”

So what if he’s just playing along? You’ll take it. It’s not like you’re looking for true love, here.

“You know,” he says. “I’ve come out of this marriage a whole lot better than you have.”

“How so?”

“They look at us and think: ‘wow, that guy must be rich to have a hot, young wife like that.’”

He’d never say anything like that if your uncle was in earshot.

How far can you push him?

You press yourself tighter against him, turning to speak into his ear. “Or maybe, they think you’re really good in bed.”

“I’ve, uh, never had any complaints.”

Are you imagining it, or is he losing his cool?

“I’ll bet.”

You sway together under the crystal chandelier, his hand on your back keeping you steady. Good thing, too, as the scent of his cologne is making your knees weak. You crush your breasts to his broad chest. Can he feel your hard nipples through the fabric of your dress?

He swallows, looking up from your cleavage to meet your eyes. “You’re killing me, here.”

“I’m trying.”

“Yeah, well, stop it.” He’s not playing around anymore. “We’re here for a job, remember?”

Damn, you almost had him. He always jerks things back just as they’re getting interesting.

You sigh. “Fine, I’ll behave.”

In a second, his composure returns and he’s back to joking. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

The hypocrite. You pull away from him. “We’ve been here long enough. Let’s go find that storeroom.”

You jimmy open another crate, this one containing some rare vintage of wine. Nice, but not what you’re here for. You replace the lid.

The estate holding tonight’s soiree is undergoing some heavy renovations. Thanks to that, this unsecured storage room is now wine cellar, treasure vault, and everything in between.

For a couple of thieves like you, that’s as much of an invitation as the one crumpled in Sam’s pocket.

“Any luck over there, Sam?”

“Maybe. Come see.”

You cross the storeroom, past the buzzing champagne cooler. You find him elbow-deep in packing peanuts. “What have you got?”

He uncovers an antique snuff bottle, inlaid with tortoiseshell. “Bingo!”

“Check the inscription before you pat yourself on the back,” you say. “Does it match what the buyer said?”

He flips the bottle over and reads the engraving in the lacquered wood. “Uh, ‘to my darling, blah blah blah… forever yours, blah blah blah…’ yeah, it checks out.”

“Nice! Now, let’s just—”

A door at the end of the hall creaks open, and footsteps pad down the corridor. That’s not good. This wing is employees only.

You help Sam heave the box’s lid back into place, and he slips the snuff bottle into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

“Now what?” you whisper.

“We could hide? Or—or make a run for it?”

“Don’t be stupid, that’s too suspicious. We need a distraction.”

“Well, unless you’re hiding a flashbang under that little black nothing dress, I—”

The footsteps are almost right outside the storeroom.

“Shut up, Samuel.” You hop up to sit on one of the waist-high crates, twitching your dress so the slit shows some skin.

“Uh—”

You grab him by the lapels, dragging him to stand between your legs. “Just kiss me.”

He looks down at you, conflicted for a moment, before a lopsided grin emerges. “Well, alrighty then.”

You shut your eyes, waiting, your chest thundering even as you pretend it’s not.

The first press of his lips on yours is clumsy and misaligned, so you tilt your head for him. You snake your hand to the nape of his neck, your thumb swiping the stubble on his jaw. He makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, and then his hands claim your waist, and he kisses you deeply. He's all cigarettes and champagne, his reluctance gone with the wind.

You pour all of your need into him, and he answers in kind, mirroring your tangible longing with his own. No one can kiss this desperately and not mean it, not even a womaniser like him. Right?

Your thighs close around his hips, and your hand clutches tight to his jacket. The unexpected flicker of his tongue has you wet in an instant, and you’re caught up in the surprising vivacity of his kiss. So caught up, that you don’t even notice the storeroom door opening.

A woman clears her throat. “Sorry, uh, you’re not supposed to be in here.”

Damn it. Things were getting good!

You unglue your lips from Sam’s, turning to the interloper with feigned shock. “Oh!”

It’s the miffed waitress, her face as red as her tie. “I need to get to the cooler…”

You slap Sam’s chest with the back of your hand. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

He looks down at you with his goofy grin still in place. “What can I say? I just wanted to get you alone.”

You wipe a lipstick smudge from the corner of his mouth. “You always do.”

He kisses the pad of your thumb, eyes soft.

God, if he’s still acting, the man needs an Oscar.

You jump up, affecting embarrassment, and take him by the hand. “We’re so sorry!” you say, hiding your face, as you squeeze past the waitress and back into the corridor.

Sam laces your fingers together as the two of you trot back to the main hall. You cut around the dancefloor, making a beeline for the exit. You’re flushed with excitement, still tingling from his kiss, the job well done adding some pep to your step.

But he drops your hand the moment you’re outside, the cool night air slicing through the make-believe. He lights two cigarettes and passes one to you, leading you down the long driveway.

“You can never tell your uncle about that,” he says, typing out a message to the man in question with his free hand.

You suck on your cigarette, trying to keep from scowling. You almost had him! “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good, because he would kill me dead.”

Right on cue, your uncle Sully brings the car around, grinning through the open window. “You kids enjoy the party?”

“You know it, Victor.” Sam makes like he’s going around to the passenger side.

You push past him. “I call shotgun.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You stand outside Sam’s hotel room, fizzing with nerves, still in your little dress.

Come on, you’re a big girl. When have you ever had this much trouble going after something you want?

You raise your hand and knock three times.

A moment passes, and then he opens the door. He’s removed his jacket and undone the top couple buttons of his shirt. His tie lies unfastened around his collar.

He frowns when he sees you. “You all right? What are you doing here?”

You step into his personal space. “Can’t you guess?”

He closes his eyes and exhales through his nose. There’s resignation in his voice. “Get in here before Victor catches you.”

His room is lit by one of the bedside lamps, warm and intimate. A bottle of scotch sits on the tea table, a glass half-drunk beside it. You go over and lift the glass to your lips, stealing a taste.

He shuts the door behind you. “Look, whatever it is that you want—we can’t.”

“Why not? Because of my uncle?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Is that really it, or do you just not want me?”

“I—”

“Because that’s different. If I’m barking up the wrong tree here, tell me, and I’ll leave right now.”

“I… uh…” He shakes his head. “I can’t lie to you, gorgeous. I’ve wanted you since we met.”

He has? You were right! Both relief and adrenaline flood your veins.

“But we met over two years ago! Why the hell did you never make a move?”

“It’s not as simple as all that. You’re asking me to break a promise.”

“What?”

“When Victor brought you in on that first job, he made me swear that I’d never so much as look at you that way, all right?”

“Of course he did, the old mother hen.” You pour yourself another couple fingers of scotch and down them.

“Can you blame him? What uncle wants someone perving on his niece? Never mind when it’s someone twice her age.”

“Uncle Sully means well, but can we leave him out of this? It’s not really his decision.” You smirk. “And besides, as far as I’m concerned, that promise is already broken. Even if we forget the way you kissed me tonight—”

“Hey, you told me to do that.”

“Did I tell you to use tongue?”

That mollifies him. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a little self-satisfied smile.

You continue, “—even forgetting that, I’ve felt your eyes on me these last two years. You’ve definitely been looking.”

He steps towards you, tension rolling off him like it’s taking everything he has to keep from jumping you. “I guess I’ve never been very good at keeping promises.”

You set down the empty glass and go to him, kicking off your heels as you do. Then you wind your arms around his shoulders, pressing your breasts against his chest like you did earlier. “Are you going to give me what I want, or do I have to go back to my room and give it to myself?”

He groans, but he doesn’t push you away. “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?”

What a line. You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, is daddy going to spank me?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Maybe someone should.”

It’s no fun if you’re always chasing him. What will it take to make him lose control?

You lean up on your tiptoes, kissing the birds on his neck before murmuring into his ear. “Is daddy going to fuck his hot, young wife?”

He clenches his jaw, and looks at you with so much heat it’s a wonder you don’t both go up in flames. “You bet he fucking is.”

His hand curls around your face, fingers tangling in your hair, and he tugs your mouth to his. He kisses you hard, mouth open and tongue seeking your own. His other hand goes behind your back, and finds the zipper of your dress, yanking it down in one go. He slips under the fabric to touch your skin.

Finally! You melt into his touch, getting swept up in his storm.

“Don’t think I don’t know your game,” he says, holding you to him and running his nails down your back, making you shiver. “You wore this dress to rile me up, didn’t you?”

“Did it work?” You tilt your head for him to press a hot kiss to your neck.

“What do you think?” he mumbles into your skin. “A sexy slit up to the thigh, cut low in front to show off your perfect tits. I’m just a guy, doll.”

You push his tie from his shoulders and start unbuttoning his shirt. You should tear it open and scatter the buttons across the carpet. “I’ve been trying to get you to fuck me for months, I figured it was time to bring out the big guns.”

He watches your hands work. “I’m going to hell for this, I hope you know that.”

“Yeah, well, you can save me a seat.”

He shrugs out of his shirt, pulling his undershirt up over his head and dropping it behind him. He’s all wiry muscle and scar tissue. His light chest hair culminates in a treasure-trail on his stomach.

You’ve seen his body before, felt his skin, even. But there’s a difference between patching someone up after a fight, and touching them to bring pleasure.

You slide your hands up his arms to squeeze his biceps in a way you’ve always wanted to, but never had the excuse for. He flexes for you, enjoying the attention as much as you enjoy giving it.

You’ve never been fucked by someone as strong as him, or by anyone with as much experience. You need to make it count.

“You’d better not go easy on me,” you say, smoothing your hands across his chest.

“God damn. You’re sure not going easy on me, are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Next to go is your dress, and he pushes it down your shoulders until it spills onto the floor. Your body is bare to him, only your lacy panties left covering you.

He’s never seen you naked. What does he think? You’re fit and strong, and you’ve got age on your side. How long since he’s been with someone in their twenties?

He sucks in a breath, then cups your breasts in his big, calloused hands. “I always wondered how they’d feel.”

“You did?”

“I did. More times than I should probably admit.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “And?”

“And I was right.” He squeezes. “They’re fucking perfect.”

You go for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it through the loops. When you unbutton his pants, your fingers press against the insistent hardness of his cock.

Your core clenches with want. You’ve fantasised about his cock more times than you can count.

He flicks over your nipples with his thumbs, then tilts your head up to plant a quick kiss on your lips. “Get on the bed, baby.”

“You got it, daddy.” You wink at him before throwing yourself down onto the plush hotel bed, grinning at the ceiling.

It started as a half-joke, calling him ‘daddy,’ but from the way his nostrils flare when you say it, it looks like he’s into it. Fuck if you can stop now, when you’re soaking wet and your clit is throbbing with need.

He climbs onto the bed, lying beside you and pulling you in to another kiss. His hand trails down your side, landing on your hip and tugging your body close to his. His cock pokes your thigh through his boxers, and you grind into him, kissing him harder.

He makes a little surprised _oof_ noise, and then rolls on top of you, sucking a mark into your neck. He rolls his hips into yours. You wrap your legs around him, letting him grind into your covered pussy, and you moan and sigh beneath him. The pressure on your clit is delicious.

“God, your voice really turns me on.”

“It does?” You card your fingers through his hair, your breathing heavy.

He kisses his way down past your collarbone. “Fuck, yeah.” He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, closing his lips around it. When you’re squirming in pleasure, he releases it with a _pop_. “I’d have you screaming if your uncle wasn’t just down the hall.”

“Maybe I’ll scream anyway.”

He leans up on his elbows, frowning down at you. “You’d better not.” Then, a wicked gleam appears in his eyes. “You’ll be quiet for daddy, won’t you?”

You bite your lip, and nod.

“Attagirl.” He smiles and kisses your cheek. Then his pickpocket-deft fingers are sliding underneath your panties.

“Oh,” you sigh, closing your eyes as he circles your clit.

He groans into your shoulder. “You’re so wet.”

“I’ve been wet since you kissed me at the party.”

“God, when you say things like that I… I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.”

“Sam…” You shift under him, huffing, his fingertips exploring your slick pussy.

His fingers dip lower and, desperate for them to sink inside of you, you raise your hips. Taking the hint, he pushes a finger into your cunt, pumping in and out. Slow, at first, then a little faster.

“Christ, you’re tight,” he mutters, so quiet you almost don’t hear over your own heavy breathing.

Your knees fall open for him, and you moan softly. “Do you remember that job in Ghana?”

“Uh, yeah. Are we really gonna talk about the time you got shot, right now?”

You giggle. “Remember? You got me drunk on that cheap vodka to numb the pain, and you patched me up. Your hands were all over me.”

He brushes his thumb over your clit. “You make it sound so dirty.”

“I wanted you to fuck me then.”

He squeezes a second finger inside.

“I want you to fuck me now.”

“Hold your horses. I’m enjoying myself, here.”

His fingers keep up their sweet push-pull rhythm, your pussy making slick, sucking sounds. He returns his mouth to your breast, tonguing your nipple. The coil of want in your belly winds tighter and tighter.

Your hands clench into fists, one in the sheets and the other in his hair. It’s so good, but it’s not enough. “Sam!”

“Shh. What is it, baby?” he whispers.

“We might not have much time.” You shove him off you, and wriggle out of your panties. “Get your cock out.”

“You’re so bossy. But, when you’re right, you’re right.” He tugs his boxers down and off, freeing his hard cock.

It’s difficult not to stare. He’s got such an amazing body.

You press yourself to his side, skin-on-skin contact from head to toe, and hold his jaw as you kiss him. His hand drops to squeeze your ass. Yours slides down his body, past his taut, flat stomach to wrap around his dick. You jerk him off quickly, to show you mean business.

You ache inside from need.

How many times have you imagined this moment? How many times have you rubbed yourself to a frustrated completion? How many times have you clamped down on your own fingers in an unsatisfying orgasm?

Not this time. This time it’s real.

His head thumps onto the comforter, his eyes squeezed closed, as he juts his hips up into your fist. There’s so much you want to do. You want to rub his cock like this, and let him come on your face. You want to suck him off, take his load down your throat and swallow it. You want to ride him like a horse, while he palms your tits, so you can watch him come undone.

But most of all, you want him to pin you to the bed and fuck you like he needs this as much as you do.

“Fuck me.” You let go of him, and kick the sheets away so you can get comfortable with your head on the pillows. “Please.”

He crawls over you, fitting his lean form to your curves. He looks down at you and cups your cheek. “Well, since you asked so nice.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, shit. Do you have a condom?”

He nods. “Give me a minute. Get yourself comfy.”

He rolls off the bed and you lie there, staring at the ceiling, pulse rushing. He pads over to his duffel bag, and the zipper opening is so loud. What if Uncle Sully hears it?

Don’t be silly—even if he did hear, he’s hardly going to bust in here because Sam opened a bag.

After a few moments of rustling, Sam returns to you, his cock clad in slick latex.

He kisses your ear and nips the lobe with his teeth, while he pushes your legs apart and settles between them. His hands are shaking on your thighs. Is he nervous? “You ready for daddy?”

You shiver all over. Maybe you’re nervous, too. “Yes.”

He reaches down to line himself up. You gasp as the thick, blunt head of his cock stretches you wide open and he rocks into you.

“Oh, fuck.” He kisses your shoulder, your neck, your cheek, anywhere he can reach.

He’s too big, or you’re too tight, and it’s slow going, but he gets a little deeper inside on each thrust. He grunts, his face tightening in restraint, trying not to hurt you.

But you need all of him, unbridled.

You wrap your legs around him, lifting your hips so that his cock slides in as deep as it can. He moans lowly and you squeak as he bottoms out, filling you up.

It’s impossible to be this close, this wrapped up in each other, and not kiss him. So, you do, holding his face as he starts fucking into you.

You mewl into his mouth, crossing your ankles behind his back to cling to him harder. You’ve been so horny for so long, tonight could be the night a guy makes you come with just his dick.

Two years you’ve flirted, surviving his constant about-faces from hot to cold and back again. You thought it was a game he enjoyed playing with you, but it was your uncle all along, holding him back.

But you always get what you want, one way or another, and it’s never felt as good as this.

Until an overzealous thrust misses its mark, and he slips out of you. His cock swipes a sticky streak across your inner thigh, the fire of your loins all but doused.

“Shit, sorry.” He angles his hips, desperate to be inside of you again, but you’re so slippery wet he can’t slide home. He chuckles. “Damn it.”

You laugh, too, stealing a kiss. “It’s okay.” You reach down between you, fisting his heated flesh and helping him find your centre again.

“That’s it.” He groans and, not squandering another second, pounds into you like he’s making up for lost time. How much wasted time does he regret? The last minute? The last two years?

Steadily, he stokes the embers within you back into flickering flames. He cants his hips, thrusting the full length of his cock in and out of you, his breathing hard. It’s getting you there. You try to match his pace, meet him halfway, but you’re off kilter and out of sync, and—

“Ah, hell.” His cock pops out of you again, and the pleasure on his face morphs into frustration.

Your chest bubbles with ill-timed giggles. “My fault, I think,” you say, biting your lip.

He lowers himself to his wiry forearms, looking down at you with a soft smile. “You’re so beautiful.”

That’s not what he’s supposed to say. He’s supposed to tell you how hot you are, how good you feel. He’s supposed to grind his shit and fall asleep right after he comes. Why are his eyes so gentle?

You blink away your confused feelings and give him your best heated gaze. “Fuck me, daddy.”

“All right, gorgeous.” His voice is ragged, and his teeth graze the shell of your ear. “You hold on to me.”

He kisses you again, hot and wet, and then his cock sinks in deep, startling a moan out of you. He shushes you, burying his face in your neck as he rolls his hips in earnest. You curl a hand around one of his biceps, your other hand tugging his hair. Your thighs frame his, and you lift your hips a little on each thrust, pulling him deeper inside. Both of you move in time now.

He doesn’t ever draw back too far, maybe afraid he’ll slide out of you again. It doesn't matter; the way the head of his cock nudges against your g-spot fans your flames until they roar.

He leans all his weight on one arm, squeezing his hand between your bodies, his thumb pressing your clit. He confirms his target with an experimental flick, before rubbing sweetly.

You scrunch your eyes shut, holding back too-loud moans. Fuck.

It’s not quite the fast and hard animalistic rutting you expected, but god damn is it getting you off.

“C'mon, sweetheart,” he says, his breath hot on the crook of your neck.

Your body tightens in anticipation. “Are you close?”

He groans. “Yes. How can I get you there?”

You whine without meaning to, your climax a wildfire burning on the horizon. “Just don’t fucking stop.”

He leans up on an elbow, his hazel eyes boring into you as he pumps his hips with more force. His thumb swipes over your clit faster. He clenches his jaw, eyebrows knitting together.

You tremble under his gaze, your mind racing as fast as your heartbeat. He called you beautiful. He thinks you’re beautiful. He’s wanted you since you met. He—

He grunts, hips stilling and eyes falling closed. You follow him down to the centre of the earth, consumed there by its molten core.

You moan, and he clamps his mouth over yours to muffle you, kissing you with heat and want. He stops teasing your clit when you push his hand away, and holds you tight instead, as you shake from your orgasm.

His kisses grow languid as the two of you find yourselves again. You wrap your arms around him, so he can’t even think of pulling away yet.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Shit.

You were supposed to be getting him out of your system, remember? This was just sex. No strings attached. No feelings.

You relax your grip on him again.

“Damn, I need a cigarette,” he says, grinning down at you.

“Me too.” Hell, after that, you could use one of Uncle Sully’s cigars.

Sam eases out of you, rolling onto his back and dealing with the condom as you contemplate the ceiling.

“You all right?” He settles next to you, trying to gauge your expression.

You smile. You can deal with your thoughts later, for now you’re basking in the fact that you fucked Samuel Drake. “Hell yeah. That’s got to be the best thing we’ve ever done.”

“What, even better than getting shot in Ghana?”

“Much more enjoyable, yes.”

He grimaces. “Not to mention life-threatening. If Victor ever finds out—”

There are three sharp raps on the hotel door.

“Oh, fuck!” you whisper.

Sam jumps up from the bed and wriggles into his dress slacks. “Go, hide in the bathroom. I’ll deal with this.”

You clutch a sheet to cover your nakedness and scurry to shut yourself in the adjoining washroom. You press your ear to the door, your panicked pulse almost drowning out what’s happening on the other side.

“Am I interrupting something?” It’s your uncle, but he’s not screaming or even yelling, so maybe everything is fine.

“What? No. I was just getting ready for bed.” Sam’s such a good liar, it’s scary. “What can I do for you, Victor?”

“I’m looking for my niece. She’s not in her room. You haven’t seen her, have you?”

You cringe. He did a bit more than see you.

“No, I haven’t. You check outside? She probably went for a smoke.”

“I couldn’t see her, but I’ll go check again. I shouldn’t be surprised; she’s been sneaking off like this since she was yea high.”

Oh, don’t tell him that!

Sam chuckles. “I can believe it.”

When they’ve said their goodbyes and Sam’s ushered Uncle Sully away, you emerge from your hiding place.

Mischief is plastered across Sam’s face. “I think he bought it.”

You swap your bedsheet for your discarded dress. “Looks like I’m going out for a smoke break, then.”

He watches you change, guilt creeping into his eyes. “You, uh, get what you came for?”

You slip your shoes on and flatten down your hair. “And then some.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaa this was supposed to be a little oneshot, but it got away from me. there's going to be a few chapters, i'm just not sure how many
> 
> thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

You settle onto the couch in Nate and Elena’s living room. The baby monitor is within an arm’s reach, on the coffee table.

Cassie’s fast asleep upstairs, and her parents won’t be back from their date night until late. You’re in for a boring evening, but you don’t mind helping Elena out. She’s been so frazzled.

You put your feet up and flick through the channels on the tv, landing on a rerun of an old scary movie. Maybe later you’ll order some food and drink those two beers Elena promised you.

Man, the life of a professional thief is all go, isn’t it?

The city isn’t so bad. It’s nice to have a base to come back to between jobs; somewhere mundane to balance out the heists and the gunfights. These days you go where Uncle Sully goes, anyway. And since he’s the Drake family’s personal taxi-pilot, you go where Sam goes, too.

Sam Drake. What a mess.

You haven’t spoken since you slept together a week ago. Not so unusual for either of you to treat your other lovers this way, but each other? The radio silence is unsettling.

Was it naïve of you to imagine that things would be different? Nothing lovey-dovey, god no—but, shouldn’t your friendship have survived, at least? You’ve been through some hairy situations together over the last couple years... Could you have overestimated the camaraderie you forged?

Maybe there wasn’t much between you aside from that sticky-sweet, forbidden-fruit lust.

He didn’t fuck like a man only interested in your body, though. With his soft eyes and sweet words, he was almost tender. He kissed like it mattered.

Not that you wanted it to matter!

Did you?

You swivel the fake wedding band around your finger. So what if you’re still wearing it?

God.

You’ve always been the type to do what feels good and then think about it later. How’s that working out for you? He could hate you for wedging yourself into his partnership with your uncle. He could blame you for making things awkward.

Or he’s too busy fucking other women to bother with you.

Which would hurt more?

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s a message.

Wow. Nothing for a whole week, and now he hits you with this?

Ignore him. Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Your thumbs have other ideas, typing out a reply.

You stare at your phone, swallowing.

What? He’s coming here? Now?

You’re in ratty jeans and a scruffy shirt. No makeup. You haven’t shaved your legs, or… anything, really, in days.

Brilliant.

But what do you care what he thinks? It’s not like you need to impress him anymore; you got what you wanted last week, didn’t you? It’s business as usual now. He probably just wants to hang out, and that’s fine.

Unless you went and caught some feelings. Did you?

No, definitely not.

Then why is your heart beating faster while you wait for him to arrive?

Last time was on your terms and you were in control. Now it’s his turn to serve, and you don’t even know which end of the court you should be standing on.

Why is he coming? Does he want to talk? Does he want… something else?

Maybe he wants to see Cassie.

You could always ask him.

Or not.

Anticipation throbs inside of you. It’ll be more fun to wait and see.

Just be honest with yourself; he’s been on your mind even more this last week. Your brilliant plan to screw him right out of your system backfired a tiny bit. Instead, you're left with a full-blown craving that only one thing can satisfy.

But something about the guilty way he looked at you when you left his hotel room made you hesitant to reach out to him. Even though you’re in the same city.

You can’t avoid each other forever. You’re babysitting his niece for Christ’s sake, it’s not like he’s going to disappear into the aether.

Can you go back to how things were before? You might have to.

Or he might want to do it again. He might want you again.

A car pulls up to the house. The headlights peek through the living room’s drawn curtains before cutting out. The car door opens, then thuds closed.

You shiver. He’s here already?

The doorbell goes, and you jump up like it’s electrified you. How are you more antsy now than when you waited outside his hotel room?

Nerves jangling, you go to the front door, unlocking it and easing it open.

Sam stands there, tall and handsome in his worn Sherpa jacket, a pizza box balancing in one hand. “Hey,” he says, grinning, “special delivery.”

You take the pizza from him, the warm, greasy cheese aroma assailing you. “Oh, shoot. I don’t have any money. How ever will I pay you?”

“We can work something out, doll.”

“I’m sure.” You step aside to let him enter. You feel very much the teenaged babysitter inviting in her college boyfriend.

He hangs his coat up on the rack with the nonchalant ease of someone who’s been here a hundred times. “Cassie-baby asleep?”

You lock up behind you. “Yeah, and don’t you dare wake her.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He leads the way down the hall to the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his navy-blue sweater. He opens the fridge and produces two beers. “Nathan doesn’t count these, does he?”

“Those are Elena’s, and it’s okay, she said I could have a couple.”

“Sweet.”

You toss the pizza box onto the coffee table and sink into the couch. Discreetly, you tug your collar aside and sniff yourself. Never mind perfume, did you remember to apply deodorant today?

But you smell okay, so you can relax.

Or try to, at least.

“So, Samuel.”

“Hm?” He sits beside you and passes you a can.

You pop the tab and clunk your beer to his. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Can’t believe they didn’t ask me to babysit.”

“Yeah, right,” you say. “But don’t feel too bad, my uncle volunteered my services when Nate was having trouble finding a sitter. It’s not like I was their first choice either.”

“When are you expecting them back?”

“Not until midnight. Nate’s got this whole extravaganza planned.”

Sam sniggers. “My little brother, the Casanova.”

You turn to him with a sly smile. “It must run in the family.”

He inches closer to you, and throws his arm across the back of the couch, caging you in but not touching you yet. “What are we watching?”

“Just an old horror movie.”

“Very brave of you. Any babysitters get slashed up in this one?”

“Of course. I’m not too worried, though.”

He puffs out his chest. “Because I’m here to protect you?”

“Protect yourself. If a masked killer comes in here with a knife, I’m kicking his ass.”

“You’re right, what the hell was I thinking? You do that and I’ll go find someplace to hide.”

You laugh. “Damn straight.”

You settle into his not-quite embrace, trying to focus on the film again. Neither of you make a move for the pizza on the table. It sits there, the grease soaking into the cardboard box as the minutes tick by.

There’s an obligatory slasher-flick booby scene; one of the characters doing a little striptease for her boyfriend. Sam chuckles under his breath.

You can’t stand it anymore. You’re going to force a straight answer out of him, damn it. Why did he come here tonight?

But then, he puts down his beer can and wraps his arm properly around your shoulders. His other hand lands on your thigh, and you get your answer.

He’s not here to talk, and he’s not here to hang out. He’s here for one thing.

You lay your head back against his arm, and give him the side eye. “Really? Here?”

He plays with your ponytail, wrapping a lock of hair around his finger. His other hand drifts up towards the button on your jeans. “What’s wrong with here?”

“Where do I start?” You let him pop the button open, your heartrate picking up as he tugs the zipper down.

“You want me to stop?”

You snatch him by the wrist as he makes to pull away. “Don’t you dare.”

Then he leans in and whispers in your ear, “You want daddy to make you feel good?”

You tremble. How can something that started out funny turn you on this much? He really flipped the joke around on you, didn’t he?

You close your eyes, biting your lip and waiting.

He doesn’t move.

You crack open an eye, willing him to get the hell on with it.

“I asked you a question, sweetheart.”

Ah. So, that’s how he wants to play, is it? Time to put on your best breathy porn-star voice. “Please, daddy. Make me feel so, so good.” You get ten points if you can contain your giggles.

He snorts. “All right, all right. You don’t have to lay it on so thick.”

His hand slides into your panties, fingers brushing over the stubbly skin there. He finds your clit, and teases it.

“I need you to get nice and wet for me, baby.”

“Do you?”

“Hey now, where do you get off talking back to me like that?” The playful lilt of his voice offsets his words.

You smile. “Sorry, daddy. I’ll be good.”

“Forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”

“You know me too well.”

“Yeah, I do.”

He knows you better than anyone else you’ve ever fucked, that’s for sure. Why hasn’t he run for the hills yet?

He swirls a fingertip in the small amount of slick at your entrance, coaxing you into wetness. You sigh when he returns to your clit, rubbing a little faster with the added glide.

You breathe heavier. He wants to make you come on his brother’s couch. Worse, you want to let him. Isn’t this kind of weird?

It’s difficult to care too much when he pushes a finger into you, pumping slow and steady. He withdraws, and circles your clit again.

“You want to play a game?” he murmurs.

“What?”

“I’m gonna count down from ten, and when I get to zero, you’re gonna come.”

Yeah, right. Who does he think he is?

“You’re good, but you’re not that good,” you say. “I can’t come on command.”

“Sure, you can.” The pace of his fingers slackens. “Ten.”

If he wants you to come so quickly, shouldn’t he be speeding things up? Fine, you can play along for now. You get comfortable, settling back into the couch and opening your legs wider.

“Good girl,” he says, keeping up his laid-back rhythm. “Nine.”

Despite your reservations, you’re getting hotter. The relaxed, meandering momentum of his fingers is like taking a brisk walk, and when he counts down to—

“Eight.”

—it’s like you’re hopping over a crack in the sidewalk, then hurrying along your way. You don’t want to be late.

“Seven.”

Now you’re hiking a gentle slope, your muscles tensing and releasing.

“Six.”

Oh, god. How is this building so fast? The movie plays on in the background, forgotten. Pleasure mutes the falsetto screams into barely there whines, and you shut your eyes. You let Sam nudge you closer and closer to your peak.

“Don’t you dare come until I say ‘zero,’” he whispers. “Five.”

It’s a steady jog now, your heartrate up and sweat beading on your skin. His fingers move faster.

“Four.”

You’re panting now like you’re sprinting. Fuck.

“Three.”

The finish line is in sight.

“Two.”

He speeds up, his fingers sliding over your now slippery clit.

“I bet you want to come, don’t you, baby? Remember, not until zero.” He kisses behind your ear. “One.”

You moan, your whole body tight. You’re right there, on the edge of a cliff overlooking a tumultuous ocean storm. Your face is burning. You’re right fucking there.

“Christ, you’re so beautiful.”

You open your eyes to find him watching you, and biting his lip. “Sam, please.”

He swallows. “Zero.”

Your back arches as you leap over that precipice, wind whipping you all the way down. You crash into roaring waves, shivering and overstimulated.

You pull his hand out of your pants, your chest heaving. “Holy goddamn shit.”

“Now who’s ‘not that good?’” He wipes his sticky fingers on your jeans, and you swat him in the arm.

“Don’t be smug.” It’s hard to speak, so you wait for your breathing to even out before you continue. “You’re over your post-nut syndrome, then?”

His eyes crinkle. “My what?”

“You know, when you can’t stand to be around the woman you just fucked, so you ghost her until you’re horny again.”

He stills. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Forget it.” You turn to face him. “Kiss me.”

He leans in to you. “You sure?”

He’s so handsome. Weathered and rugged, maybe. Old enough to be your father, definitely. The two of you are a terrible idea all around, but damn.

It’s got to be bad karma to be such a heartbreaker.

You lay your palm to his cheek, a fingertip tracing a teasing line over the shell of his ear. How does he feel about you? How do you feel about him?

He’s like quicksand. Take a deep breath, you’re about to go under.

You pull him towards you, and then you’re kissing, hot and heavy, like a couple of horny teenagers. He shoves a hand up your top, and squeezes one of your breasts over the cup of your bra.

You grab his cock through his jeans, the fabric stretching over the bulge. “Do you want to fuck?”

He grins, impish, and pretends to be scandalised. “What, here?”

You pull him down with you as you lie back on the couch cushions. “Right here.”

He divests himself of his sweater, and the t-shirt he’s wearing underneath, revealing his toned abs. The scars on his stomach are still puffy, from where he took those bullets so many years ago.

You’re younger now than he was back then. Is it crazy that you can still connect like this? Does it make you wise beyond your years, or is he just monstrously immature?

He drags your jeans and panties off your hips, unhindered by the same thoughts clouding your mind. Or perhaps incapable of complex thought right now.

You cringe when he smooths his hands up your newly bared legs, the stubble prickling under his touch.

“What’s wrong?”

You push past it, refusing to be embarrassed. “Nothing.”

He runs his hands up your shins again, the short hairs rasping. “What, this? I think it’s sexy.” He grins. “Very European.”

“Shut up.”

“Honey, if you think your legs are bad, just wait until you see mine.”

He lures a chuckle out of you. Damn it, why do you always laugh at his lame jokes? You’re only encouraging him.

He leans down to kiss you. His tongue is slick against yours and your insecurities vanish like smoke. Figures he’s not squicked by a little body hair. He’s not some dumb boy you might have messed around with in the past; he’s a man with real experience.

He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, before extricating a condom from within.

“You came prepared.” You give him a wry look.

“You’re giving me a hard time for being hopeful?”

You lean up on your elbows to kiss him underneath his jawline. “We could have been fucking all week if you’d called me.”

“You didn’t call me, either.”

He’s got you there.

You wrap your arms around him and smother him with kisses, before he can point out any more of your flaws. “Come on, let’s make up for all that lost time before Nate and Elena get back and find us fucking on their couch.”

His chest rumbles with laughter. “Good idea.”

You unbutton your shirt while he shoves his pants down. While he’s busy fumbling with his boots, you scoot over so you can play with his cock. He finally manages to kick his boots off and gets to opening the condom wrapper.

“Sam,” you say, supressing a smile. “You are not leaving your socks on.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.”

“Fine.” He passes the condom to you while he bends down to remove his socks. “And I forgave you for your hairy legs.”

“Shut up.” You snicker, punching him in the lucky tattoo on his shoulder.

He wiggles his bare toes. “Better, your highness?”

“Much.” You kiss his cheek, before pulling open the wrapper in your hands, and gripping his cock. Biting your lip, you roll the condom onto his length. Time to get this show on the road.

You get on your knees, facing the back of the couch, bending over as much as you can.

“Damn,” he says, getting behind you and grabbing your ass in both hands. “Where have you been hiding this?”

“Don’t act like you don’t stare at my ass every time I’m ahead of you.”

“Only when your uncle’s not around.”

You laugh. “Is that all you’re going to do, stare?”

Better to steer the conversation away from your uncle, before he feels guilty again.

Sam’s hand lands on your ass cheek with a resounding smack. The sting makes you moan, and press yourself back against him.

“You’ll get another, if you don’t behave,” he promises. And then he’s positioning himself, the condom greasy against your skin.

You hold on tight to the couch cushions, arousal an excited flutter between your legs. This, right here, is the moment you’ve pined for all week.

He snaps his hips forwards, filling you with his cock in one sharp movement. You cry in surprise at the stretch, but he doesn’t wait one more second before striking up a merciless rhythm. His hands are on your hips, and your ass bounces against him.

He groans behind you, fucking into you hard. “You know,” he says, his breath hitching, “I was offended when Victor first told me to stay away from you.”

“Huh?”

He wants to talk about your uncle now? This is much more inappropriate than you bringing up the time that merc shot you.

“I told him I wasn’t so hard up that I was gonna mess around with his college-aged niece.”

“And then you met me.” You allow yourself a smug grin with your face hidden.

“And then I met you. You were the hottest little thing, and we hit it off right away.” His hands go to your waist, clamping there and hauling you in to each of his thrusts. “And I knew he was right to worry.”

“Here I thought I’d seduced you against your will with my slutty dress,” you say breathily.

“We were always gonna end up here, sweetness.”

Sweetness. That’s a new one. It goes straight to your core.

He grunts when you clench around him. “I just knew you’d have the tightest little pussy.”

You just knew he’d have the dirtiest mouth. It’s not in his nature to keep quiet for very long. But how can he hold a conversation without the pace of his hips ever stuttering?

“I tried blaming it on your dress, but that was bullshit. I thought maybe the playing pretend got to me, but I was wrong.”

You push back against him, panting. Already, you're climbing your way back to that bluff overlooking the rampant, raging sea.

This time, you won’t be diving in alone.

He leans over you, bringing one foot up onto the couch by your knee, and grabbing onto your shoulder. “I’ve wanted to fuck you silly for two goddamn years.”

You whine and hang your head. You shift so that you can reach down and worry your overindulged clit with your fingers. The things he says drive you wild.

When he catches you, he pulls your hand away from your pussy. “Let me do that, sweetheart. You know daddy’s got you.”

You moan in relief when he soothes your clit. His hands were made to be on your body. You’ve watched him climb, steal, and kill with those hands, but it’s here and now that he’s doing his best work.

He uses those hands now to push you over the edge, and you come for him with a gasp, engulfed in the waves of your climax.

“Ah, fuck.” His hips halt in their rutting, and his hand squeezes your shoulder tight. “Fuck, baby,” he groans, his voice shot to pieces.

You sag against the back of the couch, breathing hard. “’Fuck’ is right.”

He lays a line of kisses up your back, ending at your shoulder. He rests his left hand over yours, rubbing the back of it with his thumb, before stilling. “You’re still wearing that cheap-ass ring?”

Oh, crap.

“I, uh, guess I am.”

He runs his finger over the fake wedding band. “It’s turning your finger green.”

“Huh.”

“I’m gonna pull out now, all right?”

“Oka—” You grimace as he unsticks himself from you, but you don’t have time to dwell on the slight discomfort. “Shit.”

Cassie's screaming at the top of her lungs.

“It’s for you,” Sam says, nodding towards the baby monitor.

You throw your shirt back on, popping the buttons through their holes with lightning speed. “What did you do with my jeans?”

He kicks them towards you. Then he strides, still buck-naked, into the kitchen to throw the condom into the garbage can.

He’d better be planning to take the trash out, too.

You tug your jeans up your legs, realising too late that you’ve forgotten your panties. Cassie’s cries only become more insistent.

You can find your underwear later.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m coming!” You hurry up the stairs to see what the matter is, and as soon as you reach the baby’s room, it’s clear. After turning on the light, you roll up your sleeves.

“Everything all right up there?” Sam calls.

“Uh, we have a Code Brown, so if you want to leave...”

“Oh. Yeah, I’m gonna hit the road, before Nathan gets back.”

“All right.”

“I’ll call you!” And with the rattle of keys in the door, he’s gone into the night.

You finish cleaning Cassie up. “We don’t need your stupid uncle, do we?” you say, tickling her to make her smile.

What did you expect? That this wasn’t a booty-call? That he’d follow you upstairs, and when you were done, kiss both of you on the forehead and say ‘there’s my girls?’

No. It’s still just sex and you’re still just fine with that.

Cassie’s little eyes drift closed again, thank god, and you tiptoe from the room. Time to scrub your hands clean like a surgeon, and then see if that bastard left any beer for you to drink.

Nate and Elena find their way home at around eleven-thirty. Elena throws a quick thankyou your way, before scurrying up the stairs to check on her baby.

“Oh, sweet!” Nate plops down onto the couch and pulls the pizza box towards him. There’s still half left. “This is my favourite pizza place.”

“It is?” You slip your bag onto your shoulder, car keys in hand.

“Yeah, my brother and I order from here all the time.”

“Oh, really?”

He’s sitting right where you were when his brother made you come. You need to go home, before the heat from your face burns the house down.

“Hey, before you go…” Nate wipes his greasy hands and pulls out his wallet. “I know you said you didn’t want any money, but you really helped us out tonight, and—”

You wave him away. “No, no, it’s fine. I made a boatload off of that snuff bottle last week, so I really don’t mind.”

You can’t take his money after fucking his brother on his couch. It would be too weird.

“Well, if you’re sure.” He tosses his wallet onto the table, glancing into the open-plan kitchen. “You even took out the trash for us? You’re an angel.”

If you cringe any more, you’ll die. It’s time to go.

“Don’t mention it.” You clear your throat. “Say bye to Elena for me, okay? I’m going to head home.”

“All right. Be careful on your way.”

Back in your motel room, changing into your pyjamas, icy-cold shock douses you.

You forgot your panties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally here with chapter 2! i'm having so much fun writing this, so i hope it's also fun to read


	3. Chapter 3

You groan, shifting your weight from foot to foot, as you wait for Sam to pick up his phone. “Come on, you bastard.”

It goes to voicemail again. Is he screening your calls? It’s late, but he won’t be asleep. He’s a night owl like you are.

Fine. There’s the beep.

“Samuel,” you say, “is there any chance you’re even more of a pervert than I already know you are? You didn't happen to take my panties with you as a souvenir, did you? Because I forgot to put them on, and I didn’t realise until I got back to my place. So, yeah, if you could stop being a fuckboy for five minutes and call me back, that would be great.”

That shows him.

A minute goes by before your phone is buzzing in your hand. Wouldn’t it be satisfying to let it ring, and force him to leave you a message?

You answer it, anyway. “Finally.”

“What the hell is a fuckboy?”

“That’s what you’re focussed on?”

He chuckles. “Calm down, all right? There’s no need to get your panties in a bunch. Well, if you had any.”

“I have more than one pair, you know.”

“I do know.”

“Sam! What are we going to do?”

“We? This seems like very much a you problem.”

“Really?”

“Elena’s gonna be so mad you got frisky on her couch.”

“Wait until I tell her who I was with.”

He sighs. “Look, just go over tomorrow and steal them back. Say you lost an earring or something, I don’t know. Are you a thief, or aren’t you?”

“Right. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Attagirl.”

“Thanks.” You let out a deep breath, your tight chest loosening.

“It’s what I’m here for,” he says, yawning.

“I’m sorry I called you a fuckboy.”

“That’s okay. I’m still not really sure what it means, anyway, so…”

“It’s someone who—you know what? Never mind. Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight, baby.”

And damn if that doesn’t make your chest tighten again.

The next morning, Elena calls you. She wants you to come over so she can thank you properly for last night. She’ll even make some of that fancy coffee she brought back from her trip to Vienna.

But she sounds weird, and when she lets you into her home, you get the sense you’re walking into a trap. The house doesn’t smell like Austrian coffee at all.

You sit at the kitchen table, waiting for her to come back from putting Cassie down for a nap.

Wait, why are you just sitting here? Get your ass in gear! God, your head has been so far out of the game since you let your feelings get all mixed up over Sam Drake.

You jump up and bound over to the couch, noiseless, years of thievery aiding you. You get down on your knees, and feel between the cushions. Nothing. Not even spare change.

Where are they?

You drop to the floor, eyes darting underneath the couch, but there’s nothing there either.

Fuck.

You search all over the floor and check under the coffee table. No sign of the panties you left behind last night.

The stairs creak, and in an instant, you’ve resumed your seat at the table, not a hair out of place.

What the hell do you do now?

Elena comes back, her mouth set in a strange line, and she sits across from you without meeting your eyes.

You’re in trouble, aren’t you?

“So, just humour me a second,” she says, pushing a scrunched-up plastic bag towards you. “Please tell me these are yours.”

You lift up the filmy plastic and peek inside, before snatching the bag up and stuffing it into your purse. Yep, they’re definitely your panties.

“Oh, thank god.” She sighs, and her posture relaxes a little. She’s not mad?

You wince. “Wait. You thought Nate—”

“No, of course not. Well, not really.” She rubs her forehead. “But, you know, finding another woman’s underwear in between your couch cushions... it tends to make your mind race.”

“I’m so sorry, Elena.”

She nods, blowing out a relieved breath, before fixing you with a frown. “Yeah, about that.”

Oh, boy. Here it comes.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Damn, she’s already got motherly scolding down pat. Cassie’s in for it in a few years.

“I know, it’s totally not cool.”

“Never mind that my daughter was upstairs and might have needed you—”

“You have every right to be angry.”

“Or, that that’s my family’s couch, where we all sit together—”

“Oh, my god.” You hide your face in your hands. “I’ll disinfect it for you right now.”

“You think I didn’t do that the second I found these? No, the worst part is that you invited some guy, some stranger into my home!”

“No, no, no,” you say, before you can stop yourself. “It wasn’t just some guy. He’s not a stranger.”

“What?” That takes the wind from her sails. “Then, who was it?”

You peek at her between your fingers, and shake your head. “I can’t tell you that.”

“Are you kidding?”

You groan. “All right, but you have to promise not to tell anyone, Elena. My uncle would flip.”

“Now you really have to tell me.”

Hey, at least she’s not angry anymore, right? Can you tell her? Should you?

“Promise me, first.”

She meets your eyes. “I promise. I won’t say anything.”

Quick, make something up! No, you already told her it’s someone she knows.

The truth, then?

You take a deep breath. “It was Sam. I was with Sam.”

“Sam? As in, Sam Drake? As in, Nate’s brother, Sam?” Her voice is shrill, her eyes like saucers.

“That’s the one.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

She stands. “Who’s up for Viennese coffee?”

You wrap your hands around the mug, inhaling the bitter, heady aroma. The smell alone is worth the killer price tag.

“So,” Elena says, “you and Sam, huh?”

“Me and Sam.” Man, that’s weird to say.

“You’re right; Sully’s going to freak out.”

“Oh, I am never telling him.” You fiddle with the handle of your cup. “I think Sam feels kind of guilty about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently, my uncle actually made him swear to keep his hands off me.”

“No way. Forget freaking out, Sully’s going to have an aneurysm.”

You whine. “Don’t say that.”

She gives you a sympathetic look. “He wouldn’t just break a promise for no reason. He must really like you.”

“I don’t know. I kind of seduced him.” You shrink into your seat.

She scoffs. “I bet that was real difficult.”

“It wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done.” You laugh. “But only just.”

“How long have you two been…?”

“Only a week, we’re not exactly together. I don’t know what we’re doing, and I don’t know if it means anything to him. Hell, I don’t know what it means to me, either.”

“Hm.” She looks at you, trite. “You should probably decide, before someone gets hurt. Secrets only ever end in tears.”

You put down your mug and frown. “We’re not hurting anyone.”

“Not yet, but think about it; is it worth ruining Sam’s relationship with Sully, just to have a little fun?”

“What he doesn’t know can’t piss him off.”

“Well, yeah, but there’s no guarantee you two won’t slip up and get found out. Especially considering the reason we’re having this conversation in the first place.”

You groan. “Maybe you’re right.”

She toys with her wedding ring. “Nate’s going to be in an awkward position.”

“What?”

“If Sully finds out, and things go south, Nate could be caught between him and his brother.”

What the hell? You hadn't even thought of that!

You squirm. “Are you sure you’re not making things out to be more dire than they are?”

“Maybe I am. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t see each other, I just…”

“I know. It’s not like we’re in love. It’d be worth all the trouble if there were real feelings involved.”

“And you don’t feel that way about him at all?”

“I—Well, I mean… It’s—"

“Oh, lord.” She grins. “That bad, huh?”

You slump onto your forearms. “All right, maybe I like him, but I don’t want anything serious from him.” You run a hand through your hair. “I’m not looking for a commitment, and I don’t know if he’s even capable of something like that.”

“Are you not even willing to take the chance?”

You bite your lip. “But what if he’s just in it for kicks?”

She looks at you like you’re an idiot. “That’s where the ‘taking a chance’ part comes in.”

“Right.”

Her eyes take on a crafty gleam. “We can solve this right now.”

“Oh?”

“He always stays at that really crappy, rundown old place, the Green Roof Inn, doesn’t he? You ever wonder why? He can usually afford somewhere better.”

You shrug. “I figured he liked the ambiance.”

“I heard from Nate that he’s been having an affair with one of the cleaners, on and off, for months.”

You jump up, ready to bolt out the door. He could be with her right now!

Elena chuckles. “See? I think maybe you do want something from him, after all.”

“Wait,” you say, letting your thoughts settle. “He’s not staying there anymore. When we got back to the States last week, he booked in at that Riverside Motel. I thought it was weird that he’d change his habits like that, and he wouldn’t answer me when I asked him why.”

She smiles. “It doesn’t sound like he’s just in it for kicks, to me.”

“I need to see him.” You chug the rest of your coffee, and grab your purse. “Thanks, Elena.”

“No problem. Just make sure you leave my poor couch out of it from now on, okay?”

You rub your eyes. “I swear to god.”

“And, one last thing.” She’s got that conscionable look on her face again. “If you two ever do get serious… figure out a way to tell people. I won’t keep this a secret from Nate forever, but it should really come from Sam, not me.”

“I understand.”

No pressure.

You pull up to the Riverside, your heart pounding. Sam’s rented Chevy sits in the lot. He’s here.

Maybe you should have confirmed that before you came. But let’s not pretend you wouldn’t have sat here in your car and waited for him if you’d needed to.

You check your messages for the tenth time, confirming his room number. You didn’t tell him in as many words that you were planning to come over, but he's not stupid. For what other reason would you need to know exactly where he was staying?

No more stalling. Room fifteen is right there, he's left the curtains drawn, but he’s inside somewhere.

Okay. Going. Any second now.

At last, you hop out of the car, slamming the door behind you harder than you mean to. Oops.

Come on, get it together.

Seducing him for the first time had been daunting, but fun and exciting. Waiting for him last night had you quivering. The anticipation drowned out the queasy nervousness.

And now?

Nail-biting terror.

Why are you freaking out so much? So what, you realised you have a major thing for him? It's not like you're telling him that.

He'd laugh you right out of the motel. He might even be cruel.

Or maybe he'd feel the same way you do.

Which would be scarier?

You cross the parking lot, and when you get to room fifteen, you force yourself to knock.

A moment later, Sam opens the door.

He smiles when he sees you. “Hey, you.”

His hair is damp, his skin flushed warm from a hot shower. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt that clings to his pecs.

You feel better already.

“Is this a good time?” You look up at him as he towers over you.

“Of course. Come on in.”

He watches you, amused, as you push the door closed with your hip and fasten the latch behind you.

“Sit down,” you say. “I’m going to suck you off.”

He laughs, taken aback. “I mean, sure, if you want to.”

“I do want to.” You advance on him as he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the lurid, floral bedspread.

Blowjob first, awkward conversation later. That’s how it goes, isn’t it?

You shrug out of your jacket, and toss it onto one of the folding chairs. You cross the coarse carpet, and climb into his lap. The mattress squeaks as you add your weight to it.

Nothing has changed between you, and yet, everything is different.

You like him.

Maybe Elena’s right, and he feels the same way.

You kiss him, finding his smoky tongue with your own, and grind your pelvis, trying to get him hard fast.

“Did I do something to deserve this?” he says between kisses, grabbing your ass in both hands.

It would inflate his ego too much to tell him that he fucked you too good last night. So good that you’ve forgotten all the reasons you don’t do relationships.

It’s not your fault; how are you supposed to live without heaven once you’ve tasted it?

Anything deeper than that is too murky to touch right now, so it’s easier to think with your body than your mind. You keep quiet, and cross your arms to pull your shirt up and off.

He kisses your collarbone, and then down to your breast, above the cup of your bra. “I can’t get you off my mind,” he says into your skin.

“Then I’ve succeeded.” You grin, his admission making you jittery inside.

Rolling your hips again, this time you're met by the solid press of his cock. You slide from his grasp, kneeling on the floor before him, your core seizing in excitement. You’re going to make him feel so good.

He’s pitching an impressive tent in his sweatpants, and you palm it, biting your lip. Have you ever been this eager to have a dick in your mouth?

He leans back on his hands to watch you, as you tug his waistband out of the way, freeing his cock and balls. He’s surprisingly well-groomed.

Are you that predictable? Maybe the two of you are in sync.

His eyes glimmer, a glib remark no doubt right on the tip of his tongue. But you don’t give him the opportunity to ruin the moment.

You shoot him a playful look, before opening wide and sucking the head of his cock into your mouth.

His stare intensifies, and he watches you work, but you’re not shy under the inspection.

Let him look. You’ll put on a show.

You shut your eyes and moan like he’s the best thing you’ve ever tasted, sucking him down further. Then, you rub his frenulum with your tongue as you pull back.

He shifts on the sheets, gasping as you take in more of him. “You’re good at that.”

You withdraw. “I know,” you say, and then purse your lips to blow cool air over his heated, spit-slicked skin.

“Ah—” He squirms.

You do it again, engulfing his cock and hollowing your cheeks. You get him all worked up and wet, only to pull off and blow on him. Gently, like blowing bubbles; you’re not wishing on a dandelion, here.

His stomach jumps as he chuckles. “You like teasing daddy, don’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you hum around him, and it’s truer than he knows. You’re soaking between your thighs, your clit aching for attention.

His hand lands on the top of your head, his touch clumsier than usual. He pushes your hair off your face, not wanting anything to obscure his view.

You redouble your efforts, gripping his shaft in one hand and squeezing his balls with the other. You’ve licked away all remaining taste of the soap from his shower, left now with the tang of his skin. When you suck extra hard, you're rewarded with drops of sweetened salt.

On and on it goes, your head bobbing, his dick pulsing in your palm as you roll his balls in your other hand.

He’s breathing heavier, and he combs his fingers through your hair. The repetitive action soothes his restlessness under your power. “If you want me to fuck you, you’d better stop.”

You release him from your mouth, but keep jerking him off. “I can wait for you to get it up again.” You grin, before swiping your tongue into his slit. “Unless, you don’t think you can.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m gonna come on your face, and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk.”

You tremble. “Okay, daddy.”

You seal your lips around him again, swirling your tongue to make him groan. He rolls his hips in muted thrusts, trying to match your gliding rhythm. Somehow, he's restraining himself from ramming his cock down too deep. You reward him for his gentleness by forcing your head down as far as you can. Your lips stretch wide, and you let the head of his cock nudge into the back of your throat.

He moans, his fingers fluttering against your scalp. “Oh, fuck, here it comes.”

He yanks your head back, narrowly avoiding your scraping teeth in his haste. He holds you there, as he jacks his cock. His fist is a blur, bumping your lips as he finishes himself off less than an inch from your face.

You hold your breath, and then, with a groan, the first hot spurt of his come hits your cheek. Another sticky stripe paints your lips, and the third glues your eye shut.

You look up at him with one eye, and gather up the come on your lips with a finger, then suck it clean. His spunk is acrid on your tongue.

His chest heaves, his breathing jagged, and he gazes down at you with such reverence. It makes you shiver all over again.

“You made a mess of me, daddy,” you say, pouting.

“I sure did.” He bites his lip.

“Do I look pretty?”

His nostrils flare. “You look beautiful.”

You’re captive under his gaze, his come dripping down your face. There’s something powerful evolving between you.

Until your eye starts to burn.

“Ow, fuck, okay. Moment’s over.” You scrunch your face up, eye watering. “Can you get me a washcloth, or something?”

“Shit, of course.” He jumps up and tucks himself away, rushing to the bathroom and running the faucet.

You pull yourself up onto the bed to wait for him. He returns a moment later, the mattress dipping as he sits beside you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.” He swipes the warm cloth across your skin, scrubbing away the evidence of your job well done.

“I can do it myself, you know,” you mumble, as he wipes your mouth like you’re a child.

“All right.” He presses the cloth into your hand. “Knock yourself out.”

Oh. You’d actually liked the attention, but you enjoy being contrary just as much.

You clean your eye enough to be able to open it without it stinging like a bitch. But before you can get up to head to the bathroom, Sam’s stuffing a lit cigarette between your lips.

“Have a smoke with me,” he says, laying a makeshift ashtray down between you on the bed.

“Okay.” You cross your legs under you and take a drag. “Wait, what about…?” You point at the smoke alarm above your head.

He shrugs, eyes mischievous. “Thing must be busted.”

More importantly, when did he start smoking the same brand as you? Was it on purpose, or a coincidence?

“So, where the hell did that come from?” He laughs. “Not that I’m complaining.”

You toss your hair and look at him over your bare shoulder. “I just wanted to see you, and then I saw you, and…”

“Couldn’t resist the animal magnetism, eh? That’s okay, you’re only human.”

“I got my panties back, by the way.”

“There you go, I knew you could do it. Where were they?”

It’d be so much easier to lie, and say you found them yourself and Elena was none the wiser. But her voice echoes in your head. Secrets end in tears.

“Elena found them, actually. And she started laying into me about letting a stranger into her home, when her daughter was asleep upstairs... So, I sort of told her that I was with you.”

His eyes widen. He coughs, and looks down, before sucking on his cigarette for courage and meeting your gaze again. “You what?”

“Yeah, so, surprise! Elena totally knows about us.”

He gets up from the bed, and goes to lean against the wall by the window. “Ah, shit. Is she gonna say anything?”

The shabby room is tiny, but the space he puts between you yawns open like a chasm. Damn it, you should have lied.

“She promised she wouldn’t, but I don’t think she likes keeping Nate in the dark.”

He sighs. “We sneak around for a living, how are we so bad at it?”

“Maybe we just need more practice.”

“Hey, I want to, baby, don’t get me wrong. But maybe this is a bad idea.”

You crush your cigarette into the ashtray. “Smoke break’s over, get on the bed. I believe you said something along the lines of ‘until I can’t walk.’”

You gasp, another desperate orgasm wrung from your worn-out body. You ride him through your climax, prolonging the pleasure as long as your frayed nerves can stand it.

“You feel so good when you come, sweetness.” He groans below you, smoothing his hands over your breasts.

“Just not good enough to make you come, apparently.” You wipe your slick forehead with your hand.

You’re panting, your body shiny with sweat, your thighs burning. He fucked you face-to-face, then from behind, and you came for him both times. Then you rolled him over, and climbed on top. You’ve ridden him for all you’re worth, but still his ardour persists.

Is this because you teased him about not being able to get it up again?

He frowns, hurt. “Hey, it’s not you. This just happens sometimes.”

You lean down to kiss him. “So, you still think I’m hot?”

“I still think you’re hot.” He runs his hands down your back. “You want to take a break?”

“Oh, no.” You sit upright again. “I love a good challenge.”

He grins. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. He can’t know what that does to you.

You’re struck by a wicked idea. “Hey, daddy, do you trust me?”

He swallows. “Uh, sure.”

“I’ll take it.” You lift off his cock, and reach down to peel the condom off.

“Woah.” He sits up a little, grabbing your wrist. “Are you sure?”

You nod. “I’m sure.”

You tug the condom away, and toss it down the side of the bed, before getting up on your knees. And then, with a deep breath, you're seating yourself fully on his cock.

He lies back against the pillows with a thump. “Oh, fuck, yeah.”

He’s warm inside you, and smoother without the barrier of the latex. You need him to fill you up with his come.

You renew your pace with vigour, powering through the ache in your thighs to ride him harder.

He moans, his eyes closing as he loses himself in you.

“Do you like that, daddy?” you say, balancing with your hands on his chest for leverage. “Do I feel nice inside?”

His hands clench around your waist, and he assists you in your movements. “You feel so good.”

He raises his hips up to meet you, and he throws off your rhythm a little, but you don’t mind. He’s finally going to come.

Your phone vibrates on the table behind you. It's an obnoxious, prolonged rattle against the painted wood.

Whoever it is can screw off.

“Just ignore it,” you whisper. “Ignore it and come in me.”

A guttural groan escapes him, his brows knitted tight. He’s so close.

But then his phone buzzes and lights up on the nightstand by his head.

You squint at the screen. “Oh, fuck, it’s my uncle.”

Sam looks up at you with wild eyes. “Aren’t we ignoring it?”

“We can’t both be busy at the same time! Isn’t that suspicious?”

“I don’t know, is it?”

You snatch the phone up before it can go to voicemail, and force it into his hand. “Just answer it and get rid of him!”

“You’re crazy,” he says, glaring up at you, but he answers the call anyway. “Hey, Victor. What’s up?”

You hold your breath, sitting still, Sam’s dick twitching inside you.

“Uh, no, I just got back from a run.” He tries to control his breathing. “Of course I’m ready for more work, I—”

Your pussy flutters involuntarily around him. He makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

He swallows. “I’m fine. Uh, probably the Chinese food I ate.”

You grimace, and wave your hand in the universal gesture for ‘wrap this the hell up.’

“Mexico? Yeah, I'm down for that.” He clears his throat, his voice normalising. “Send me the details, all right? I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you back later. All right, bye.” He ends the call and chucks the phone across the bed. “I can’t believe you made me do that.”

You roll your hips. “Will you forgive me if I make you come?”

He keens for you. “Only one way to find out.”

You pick up the pace again, and in no time at all, he’s panting, and moaning on each thrust.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.” His hips jerk in abandon, his hands white-knuckled against your waist.

There’s no way you can come again, but the pure lust on his face stirs an answering flicker of interest in you. It influences the swing of your hips.

He cries out, holding you fast to him, as he finally, finally pulses inside of you. He paints your cunt sticky-sweet with his come.

You're sore all over, but you’ve got the proudest grin on your face. “I told you I loved a challenge.”

He doesn’t answer. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily through his mouth, completely fucked out. His hands slip from their grip on you, dropping to the mattress. He groans.

You poke him in the chest. “Uh, are you all right? Did I kill you?”

“If you did, I definitely went to heaven.”

You giggle. “I gave you some of my best moves.”

“I could tell.” He gathers up your left hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Doesn’t he know how confused you get inside when he does something tender like that?

“You finally got rid of that ring,” he mumbles, and you must be imagining the disappointment you hear there.

“I tossed it last night, it really was making my finger green.”

He doesn’t need to know that it made you kind of sad to do it, though.

“So,” you say, giving your hips an experimental wiggle and watching his mouth twitch in response. “You ready to come back down to earth?”

“Okay?”

You lean forward until his softened cock slips out of you, then swing your leg over him to dismount. You keep your core clenched as you get up from the bed, trying not to dribble his come everywhere on your way to the bathroom. But on your first step, your foot lands on the slimy, discarded condom.

“Oh, gross.” You bend down to tear the offending, stretched-out item from your foot.

“Goddamn,” Sam says, his voice rough.

You turn to find his eyes southward, following the trickle of his come down your thigh.

“We are such a bad idea.”

“You keep saying that.” You roll your eyes, hand on your hip. “But you love bad ideas, so don’t start.”

He laughs. “All right, you got me.” He rolls onto his back to gaze at the ceiling. “When we go to Mexico, I’ll have fucked you in three different countries.”

“You wanting to go for a full set? Continents would be easier.” You head into the bathroom, but leave the door open so you can hear each other.

“Antarctica might be a little tricky, but I think we could figure it out.”

He wants this to continue as much as you do.

“So, what’s in Mexico?”

“A job. Didn’t get much more than that, on account of, you know…”

“Being balls-deep inside me at the time?”

He laughs. “The mouth on you!”

“You didn’t seem to mind my mouth when it was on you.”

“Don’t remind me. If I get hard again, we’ll never leave this room.” He says that like it’s a bad thing. “Will you hurry up in there? I’m all, uh, sticky.”

“Lovely.”

Maybe he’ll be more romantic in Mexico.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter kicked. my. ass. at first. the words did NOT want to do the thing. i had to rewrite the whole chapter like twice until i got it how i liked it. BUT once i figured out how i wanted it, it pretty much wrote itself 😊
> 
> i hope you liked it too 🖤


	4. Chapter 4

You push your way into the Tijuana dive bar, the thriving atmosphere enveloping you in an instant. Wending your way through the press of bodies, you make it to the line of booths along the dimly lit back wall. Uncle Sully’s saving you a table in the corner, ready for you to meet your contact on this job.

You spy your uncle, sitting across from Sam, and you walk over to them. You fight to keep your expression at an appropriate level of excitement.

It's been days already since you arrived in Mexico, and you haven’t had a moment alone with Sam. All right, it’s only been two days, but you miss his touch like nothing else. During the week leading up to this trip, you fucked so many times you’ve lost count. Now your body has come to expect the attention.

If this were a relationship, would now be considered the honeymoon phase?

But it’s not a relationship, not really.

“There you are! Took you long enough, I was about to send Sam out to look for you,” your uncle says, when you reach their booth.

Damn it, you should have spent longer on your hair. You could have given Sam a quick blowjob when he came to get you. At this point, even a kiss would be enough. You’re jonesing bad.

“Is it a crime to take pride in my appearance now?”

“Come on, have a seat, before our contact finds out how high-maintenance you are.” Uncle Sully slides out of the booth, motioning for you to have the inside seat.

“Rude,” you say, scooting along the bench until you’re tucked into the dark corner, against the wall.

He always likes to keep you shielded like this. It's as if he’s protecting you from the same shady individuals he introduces you to.

But you don’t mind it so much this time, because now you’re sitting across from Sam. You revel in the way he smirks around his beer, catching your eye.

At least someone appreciates the effort you put in.

There’s a bottle in front of you, still misty with condensation. You grab it and take a sip, the bubbles fizzing on your tongue. “What, no tequila shots? That’s boring.”

“Shots?” Uncle Sully shakes his head. “We’re working, here.”

“I do my best work when I’m a little buzzed.”

He huffs, unimpressed. “I’m sure.”

“Hey, I can always go for some tequila,” Sam says, getting up from the table. “Be right back.”

Aw, he's buying you a drink. This is almost like a date.

“You two are as bad as each other,” your uncle says, with this wistful, fond look on his face. He turns to you. “How are you doing, darlin?”

“Me? I’m doing just fine.” You bump your shoulder to his. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Well, I’m going to, anyway.” His eyes grow melancholy. “You look just like your mother when you wear your hair like that. She’d have killed me for dragging you into this business.”

You reach over to squeeze his hand. “I’m having the time of my life. She’d have understood.”

He smiles. “Somehow, I can’t help thinking she would have preferred you to finish college. Instead, you're risking life and limb out here with me.”

“Hey, you got me out of jail when I had no one else. And I have you and Sam looking out for me now, I’m safer here than anywhere in the world.”

“Speaking of,” Uncle Sully says, “you two have been bickering a lot less, lately.”

“We don’t bicker.”

“Not anymore. Something I should know about?”

You swallow. He can’t hear your heart hammering away, can he? Damn it, you’ve been so focussed on keeping the fact that you’re sleeping together hidden. You never thought to pretend that unresolved sexual tension still burned between you. Of course he’d notice the difference.

“Something like what?” you say, forcing a laugh. “He’s just being less annoying, I guess.”

“Wouldn’t be talking about me, by any chance, would you?” Sam returns to the table, setting down three shot glasses of amber liquid. “It’s only one each, see, Victor? No one’s getting drunk, we’re all very professional.”

“Hmph.” But he’s grinning. “All right, kids. Bottom’s up!”

The three of you clink glasses, before downing the golden tequila. It goes down smooth and sweet, with the only slightest burn.

“Okay.” You slam your glass onto the table. “Now I’m ready to go to work.”

Sam grins at you. “That’s the spirit.”

You narrow your eyes. Did he just…?

“Get it? Spirit.”

He did.

You groan. “I hate you so much.”

“Now, now. Let’s play nicely, children,” your uncle says, smirking. “Although, Sam, I am going to have to halve your cut.”

“Ah, nuts.”

“I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is.”

You sit back in your seat, a mellow cosiness wrapping you up like a blanket. You’re so lucky to have them both. If only you didn’t have to hide your affections for one of them. If only you didn’t have to lie to the other.

Nope, don’t even bother thinking about it. Uncle Sully would never accept you as a couple, never mind as whatever you are right now. Friends with benefits? Fuckbuddies?

He doesn’t need to know what you two get up to in the dark.

They’re talking shop, wondering when your contact will arrive, and you zone out, drinking your beer. You can’t let yourself ogle Sam, in his short-sleeved shirt that shows off his arms, that would be too obvious. But maybe there’s another way to let him know he’s on your mind.

You slip a foot out of your shoe. Checking that your uncle isn’t paying attention, you reach out until the tips of your toes meet the hem of Sam’s jeans.

He glances at you for a second, before returning to his conversation. He hasn’t noticed what you’re up to yet; he probably figures you bumped him by accident.

You sneak your toes under the denim, and past the ankle of his boot. Now you’re brushing against his bare skin with your own.

He swallows, his expression shifting a fraction. You smile to yourself. Got him.

You stroke over his skin with the side of your foot, the touch more affectionate than anything.

Is that what you were going for?

You withdraw. And then, because you can’t not, you inch upwards until you're pressing the ball of your foot into his groin.

He coughs, almost spluttering his beer everywhere.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Uncle Sully says, raising his eyebrows at him.

Sam wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Nothing, just, uh… is the air really dry in here, or what?”

The best part is, he can’t even glare at you without giving the game away. You might pay for it later, though. You hope you do.

You wait for the conversation to pick up again, before you start rolling your foot. You keep up a playful pressure over the soft swell of his cock.

Thrill zings up your spine. There’ll be no explaining this away, if Uncle Sully happens to notice you shifting around next to him.

Sam slides his hand under the table, in that unnoticeable, sneak-thief way of his. He closes his fingers around your foot, holding it still. He runs his thumb over your skin, like how he might if you were holding hands, and squeezes once before letting go.

Not now, baby, he’s saying.

Fine.

You pull your foot away, and wiggle back into your shoe, shooting him a heated look. While your uncle is turned away from you, of course.

He’d better find some way for you to be together before the day is through.

“Sit up straight,” your uncle says. “He’s here.”

“Finally.” You do as you’re told, as a man emerges from the rabble and slides into the seat beside Sam, like he belongs there.

He’s around thirty, and not bad-looking. But you’re already getting the vibe from him that he thinks he’s way hotter shit than he is.

“Sullivan,” he says, nodding in greeting. His dark eyes rove to you. “And who’s this?”

“This is my niece,” Uncle Sully says, introducing you.

“You never told me she was so lovely. Will she be working with us, as well?”

“I’m the duct rat,” you say, preferring to speak for yourself.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, I’m the only one small enough to fit in the vents, so… I get all the glamourous jobs.”

The corner of his mouth quirks, and he holds your gaze. “And so you should.”

Sam clears his throat.

Oh, god.

You’re used to men flirting with you with on jobs. There’s so few women in the business that it’s become part of the territory. But now, you have to suffer through it while Sam clenches his jaw, biting back a retort.

That’s… kind of hot, actually.

Uncle Sully moves the introductions along. Jogging your memory of the contact’s name: Gil Dominguez, he also reminds Mr Dominguez that Sam Drake is on the team.

This next week should be interesting.

It’s late enough that even you should be asleep, and you’re leaving your room to hook up with your not-boyfriend. You’re wearing a summer dress with nothing underneath. How long will that stay a surprise?

You ease the door closed behind you, locking it quietly. You scurry across the parking lot to the old red pickup that sits, waiting for you with the engine running.

You climb into the passenger side, and Sam’s on you the second you tug the door closed. He kisses you anxiously, like it’s been torture to be away from you for so long.

It’s too risky; someone could see you!

But it’s impossible to pull away, when you’re starving for him, too.

He backs off at last, smiling. “Let’s get out of here, huh?”

You move along the bench seat, until you’re huddled into his side. “Hell yeah.”

He steers the truck out of the lot, a hand on your knee, and then you’re heading west. Mercury is bright in the blue-black sky above you.

An old, eighties rock song plays on the radio, and Sam sings along under his breath, driving you out into the night. His soft voice is soothing.

If only you could suspend this moment forever, you’d drown it in amber and wear it in a pendant around your neck. You’ve never felt like this before.

“Where are we going?” you say, as the busy city streets give way to the calmer outskirts.

“Wherever we want.” He kisses the top of your head, and you breathe in the faded scent of his cologne.

“I just want to be with you.” And it’s true.

You’ve been horny for him almost non-stop for the last forty-eight hours. But now that you’re here, you’d be perfectly satisfied to just drive around all night, wedged into his side like this.

This isn’t how ‘no strings attached’ feels, is it?

He doesn’t answer, turning you down a side road. He drives until there’s nothing but farmland stretching endlessly around you.

“You can really see the stars out here,” you say.

Cornfields reach up to the twilight sky, swaying in the light breeze, stars twinkling on high. Sam conceals the truck behind the tall crops, out of sight of the main road, and kills the engine.

Darkness swallows you. After a moment, your eyes adjust to the meagre light the silvery moon provides. Your pulse quickens, the night silent around you but for Sam’s soft breathing.

“Come here,” he says, turning your face towards his, and then his lips are warm on yours.

He wraps you up in his strong arms, and kisses you, gentler than he ever has. You hold on to him, answering the press of his lips. Your heart flutters inside of you like a moth, drawn to his luminous heat.

“How about we go out in the bed of the truck, and look at the stars?” He strokes his hands down your sides, his touch soothing.

Well, shit. He really is more romantic in Mexico. Who would have thought?

“Okay.” You kiss his cheek, before the two of you untangle from your embrace, and disembark from the pickup. The night air is sticky and warm.

He comes around to your side, lifting you effortlessly into the truck bed, and then hopping in after you.

There’s a soft blanket laid down inside, and you turn to him. “Someone had plans.”

He chuckles, his sharp face cast in gold as he flicks his lighter open to light a cigarette. “You can’t prove anything.”

You half-inch the packet from him, stealing a smoke for yourself, and he leans over to light it for you, smiling.

He lies back, his head propped against a duffel bag of supplies, and you go down next to him. The black sky roars on for eternity above you.

“This reminds me of that time we were stuck in that little, rural Greek village,” he says. “Victor took forever to come get us, so we just—”

“Drank that stolen bottle of ouzo and stargazed?”

“Yeah.”

You don’t know what it is. It could be the quiet, desperate to be filled, or maybe your heart is so full of nervous energy that it’s overflowing. The words come tumbling out of you before you can stop them. “Can we talk?”

He takes a deep drag on his cigarette, and you follow the brightness of the burning end with your eyes. “Before you say anything else, you know I don’t do relationships.”

You laugh. “Neither do I! When have you ever known me to put up with a guy long enough to call him my boyfriend?”

He blows out a long stream of smoke. “You—you want me to be your boyfriend?”

Yes. No. Maybe? “I… I don’t know if I’m saying that, exactly. I just know that I can’t stand that when we’re not together, I’m wondering if you’re with some other girl.”

“What?”

You sit up, and look down at him, even if it’s too dark to see his face. “Do you know why I was so desperate to see you, last week at your motel?”

“My incomparable charm?”

“Well, yes, but it wasn’t just that. Elena told me about that woman you were seeing, the cleaner at the Green Roof.”

“That woman knows everything!” He sits up too, and brushes his hand over your knee. “You don’t need to worry about stuff like that, sweetheart.”

“I don’t?”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since that first night with you.”

Your cheeks burn. “Really?”

“Really. I mean, I’m flattered that you think I could be slipping it to anyone else, what with how busy you’ve been keeping me, but…”

“Okay, okay.” You laugh.

“It’s not so easy for me, either, you know,” he says, his voice low.

“Hm?”

“You think I like watching you get hit on?”

“I think ‘hit on’ is a bit of a stretch.”

“I’m not just talking about that guy, Gil, today. I’ve never liked it, how every guy we have to deal with, they all look at you like you’re just—”

“Tits and ass? Young enough that everything still points up?”

“I was gonna say, ‘like you’re just there for their entertainment,’ but yeah, what you said. I sit there, and I don’t say anything, because you can handle it yourself. But now…”

“Now…?”

He sighs. “I don’t know. Now I just… I want to tell him to back the hell off, but I can’t, because Victor is right there.”

“I know, it’s awkward as hell.” But you smile to yourself in the dark.

He’s jealous. He wants to keep you all to himself.

You flick your spent cigarette over the side of the truck, motioning for him to do the same. You hop out and grind them into the dirt.

You climb back into the truck bed. “Well, since we’re not telling other people, we can only tell each other. As long as we’re… seeing each other, we don’t see anyone else. Simple.”

“So, what? We’re just fooling around, but exclusively?”

You crawl over him, sitting yourself in his lap. “That works for me. I’m not trying to put a label on us, you know. More like a bookmark.”

His amused expression is painted in moonlight. “What?”

“A bookmark. So we’re both on the same page.”

His grin broadens, breaking into laughter. “You’ve been spending too much time with me, sweetness.”

“I missed you these last couple days,” you whisper, and then you’re kissing him.

His hands roam, and when he lifts up your dress to feel the skin beneath, he chuckles. “No panties?”

You kiss his ear, before murmuring, “Can’t lose them somewhere if you don’t wear them in the first place.”

“You’re so smart.” He wriggles under you, until he’s lying down again. “Bring that cute, little pussy over here, baby.”

You swallow. Oh, hell, yes. You scoot over on your knees, until your thighs bracket his head.

“Now, I want you to hold your dress up, like this.” He lifts the hem to your waist, and gets you to hold it there. “That’s it.”

His hands are on your hips, and he guides you to open your legs wider, until your pussy is right above his face. He breathes on your sensitive skin, and you shiver.

The first swipe of his tongue makes you moan. Your hands ball into fists, clenching around the fabric of your sundress. He tongues your clit, and it’s like gravity increases, pulling you down into him.

He squeezes your ass in his big hands, encouraging you to roll your hips. You gather your dress up in one hand, so you can lean with the other on the body of the truck. Your knees weaken as he dips his tongue inside of you.

He moans at the taste of you, then returns to your needy clit, lavishing it with attention. While you’re keening, and sighing for him, he slips a finger between your cheeks. He rubs over the pucker of your asshole with his fingertip.

You gasp, the added sensation throwing you. You’re caught between his tongue and his finger, wanting to rock into both simultaneously.

“Is this okay?” he says, then kisses your inner thigh.

“Yes! Don’t stop.” You throw your head back, when he presses into you harder. It’s like your chest is full of helium, threatening to fight his pull on you, and let you drift up into the shimmering galaxy.

Mercury burns bright, and you focus on it as he makes out with your cunt. His lips close around your clit over and over, his tongue flickering.

His other hand goes between your legs, and then he’s pushing two fingers up into your pussy. All the while, he keeps up the firm pressure on your other hole.

It’s too much, all at once, and your body tightens.

“Mhmm,” he hums against you, egging you on, his tongue unrelenting.

“Oh, god.” You ride his face, burning hot. Your orgasm hits, disintegrating and bright, collapsing you in on yourself like a dying star.

You let go of your dress, leaning against the truck, panting hard.

He presses one last, chaste kiss between your thighs, then wipes his mouth on his forearm. He wiggles out from under you. You sink onto the blanket on your back, the stars hazy in the sky.

The silence of the night surrounds you, and it would be unnerving to be alone out here. But it’s impossible to be spooked when Sam’s with you. Instead, it’s like he’s carved out this tiny part of the universe just for the two of you.

He unzips his pants, and finds his way between your legs, pushing your dress up again. This time high enough to show your tits, too. He pinches your nipples between his fingers to make you whine, and then he lays his fat cock against your pussy.

You’re drawn to life again beneath him, and you pull him down for a kiss, tasting your cunt on his tongue. “You’ve got to fuck me hard, daddy,” you whisper. “It has to last until we can be together again.”

He kisses your neck, teeth scraping. “Anything for my baby.”

His baby. When he says things like that, it’s so hard to remember you’re just fooling around.

He shifts above you, and then there’s the familiar, fulfilling stretch as he works his cock into you.

“Ah!” You hike your legs around his waist, letting him sink in deeper.

“God, you’ve got the best pussy in the world.” He ruts into you, his body blanketing yours. “Daddy doesn’t need anyone else when he’s got you.”

He always runs his mouth when he’s inside of you. Don’t take it to heart. Just don’t.

He’s already warmed you up, so he can increase the power of his thrusts without worrying about hurting you. His hips smack into the backs of your thighs as he gives it to you harder.

“I fuck you good, don’t I, baby? I’m good to you.”

You clutch his flexing biceps as he sucks a mark into your neck. “Yes!”

“You like daddy’s cock, don’t you? You take it so well. No one else can compare, can they?”

He really wants to know, doesn’t he? Is it easier for him to say these things if he hides behind his ‘daddy’ persona?

Is… Sam insecure? Does he wonder what a girl your age sees in a middle-aged guy like him?

Or is he chatting shit, like he always does when he’s getting his dick wet?

He looms over you, waiting for your response, his jaw set, as he fucks you through your silence. You lay your hands over his scratchy cheeks, holding his face, and his burning eyes soften their gaze.

You drag him down so you can kiss him, and you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. “Sam…” you whisper, “I love the way you feel inside of me.”

His eyes slip closed, and he groans, hanging his head. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You lean up on an elbow, and stroke his face, smoothing his hair down and running your nails over his scalp. “Maybe I have some idea.”

He hides his face in your neck, his hips stilling.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, uh, think it’s starting to rain.”

“Oh.”

He’s right; the cool mist of raindrops tickles your bare thighs. Clouds have gathered without your notice, stealing the starlight away.

“Do you want to stop?” you say, swallowing a giggle. He’s flagging inside of you.

He looks up at you with a sheepish smile. “My ass is getting wet.”

Now you do laugh. “Let’s get in the backseat.”

He slips out of you. “Wait for me? I’ve gotta pull the tarp over to cover our stuff.”

“Need a hand?” You right your dress and gather up your shoes.

“Nah, I’ve got it. You go and get comfy.”

“Well, all right. You’d better hurry, though.” You bound down from the truck bed. “Or I’ll be cold.”

You rip your dress over your head, standing there naked in the farmer’s field. The rain lays cold kisses against your skin.

He looks over his shoulder at you, from where he’s yanking the blue tarp into place, and whistles. “Get your ass in that truck,” he says, pointing.

“Okay, daddy.” You haul the door open, and climb in, chucking your dress and shoes into the front.

You sit there and wait for him to come to you, the anticipation building. Your thighs squeeze together, and you wish that he was between them again.

You’re always hungry for more with him. More of his body, more of his time, more of his gentleness.

That last one is becoming a frightening addiction.

The rain comes down harder as he finishes fixing the tarp, droplets rattling on the roof of the truck. When at last he follows you inside, his hair is wet, and his clothes are damp.

You don’t let him undress, though; the moment he sits down after tugging the door closed, you’re in his lap. You kiss him until he’s warm again.

“We should hurry,” he murmurs. “We need to get you tucked back into bed where you belong.”

“Leave that to me.” You reach down to pull his cock out of his pants, and you rub him off until he’s back to full mast. “I’m going to get both of us off so fast, we’ll be embarrassed.”

He sniggers. “That’s a pretty bold claim.”

“Shh.” You grab his hands and bring them to your breasts, as you shift around, angling yourself just right.

He groans as you sink onto him, taking his cock, and he paws at your tits. “I just want to fill you up, baby.”

You lean on the back of the seat, and get to work, riding him hard, and fast. His arms curl around your waist, and he thrusts up into you, matching your unrelenting pace.

The pickup rocks with the force of your fucking, the leather seat squeaking beneath you. The heat of your bodies steams the windows, making your little bubble of the universe even smaller. It's like nothing exists out there but the sound of the rain.

His hands are all over you, his breath hot on your neck, as you pant into his ear. You grip onto his shoulder through his shirt. The way he’s still fully clothed against your naked body makes you feel dirty in the sweetest way.

You strum your clit, and you were right; it’s embarrassing how close you are to coming.

“Come on, daddy.”

“I’m right there with you, babygirl.” His voice is rough as gravel.

“Oh, fuck.” And then you’re coming, your pussy spasming around him.

“Kiss me,” he whispers, moaning into your mouth when you do. He follows you over the edge, stumbling with you into the abyss.

His kisses lose some of their frantic passion as his orgasm subsides, but none of their flickering-candlelike warmth.

If only he’d kiss you like this forever.

But he can’t. You have somewhere to be. Maybe one day, you’ll go away together in secret. Somewhere you can cuddle up after a hard fuck, and even fall asleep in each other's arms.

He withdraws, and pats you on the thigh. “Time to get up.”

And just like that, the magic is gone.

You ease off of him, without a word, and let yourself into the front of the truck to slip back into your dress. You’re sticky and dripping between your legs. Serves you right for not thinking to bring anything to clean up with.

The journey back is going to be uncomfortable.

He climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the door shut. “Let’s get off this guy’s land, before we get shot at, huh?”

“All right.” You turn the radio on, switching to a station that’s playing something more modern.

You started this whole thing, knowing full well this is all you could ever have.

Would you really be stupid enough to let yourself fall for this guy? He’s twice your age. He's also made it his life’s mission to catch up on all the women he missed fucking during that thirteen-year stint in the slammer.

He lays a hand out on the bench between you, a peace offering, as if he knows how you feel.

You take it in your own, squeezing.

He squeezes back.

You kiss him goodnight, before letting yourself out into the deserted parking lot.

But as you’re getting back into your room, you sense a presence near you, and you whip your head around. “Who’s there?”

Gil Dominguez steps into the light of one of the overhead neon signs. “Just me. You’re getting back awful late.”

Oh, shit. What does he know? How much did he see? Is he going to say something to your uncle?

“What are you doing out here?”

“Learning things.” He smirks. “You might want to wear your hair down tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you say, frowning. “I’m going to go into my room, now.”

He chuckles, but his eyes are mean as he looks you up and down. “You’re welcome. Good night.”

You leave him out there, and lock yourself in your room. What a fucking creep!

It’s only when you’re washing up, getting ready for bed, that you catch yourself in the mirror. You see what Gil might have been talking about.

Your hand flies to your neck, over the sore, purple mark Sam left with his teeth. The idiot! What was he thinking, leaving evidence like that?

Everything is getting so much more complicated than you planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this ended up full of feelings, completely by accident. oh well!


	5. Chapter 5

It’s been over a week since that night with Sam under the stars. You haven’t dared to hook up since, with Gil Dominguez’s hawklike eyes watching your every move.

Fuck him. He hasn’t made his move yet, but he’s doing his best to keep you on edge. You all come together sometimes, planning your infiltration of the museum. He’s always ready with a snide comment. They’re just unfunny half-jokes that only someone with a guilty conscience would get.

You bristle in his presence, and Sam endures, both of you swallowing down rage. It’s not worth upsetting the applecart to give this guy a piece of your mind.

It’ll all be okay. Even if Gil says anything to your uncle, he’s got no evidence. There’s no way Uncle Sully would believe him over you.

Unless… he’s already suspicious. Is he?

If Gil’s going to try to weasel a bigger cut out of you in exchange for his silence, he should do it already. It’s the waiting that’s freaking you out.

Doesn’t help that your go-to stress relief is unavailable to you. Chain-smoking is no substitute for Sam’s cock.

Even if you are still mad at him.

It’s irrational. Sure, he didn’t mean to leave a giant welt on the side of your neck, glowing like a beacon. But you’ve spent the whole week worrying. What if the bruise shone through the makeup covering it? What if your hair fell a certain way, leaving the damning love-mark on full display?

So, yeah. Still mad. You’re a pot, bubbling, but never boiling over. Maybe you’re hormonal.

Absence makes your heart more frustrated. You miss Sam’s body, and the way it makes you feel. But you long for him in a different way, too. You miss the whispered nothings, and the sweet endearments, and the way they allow you to yearn for more.

You’re such a fucking idiot. Sam doesn’t want any of the trouble that comes with a normal commitment. Never mind a sugar-baby like you, with all your familial baggage.

Sugar-baby or no, you’re too old to scream into your pillow. Even if you really want to.

You pull on your boots, and then straighten, going over to assess your appearance in the mirror. You’re dressed in dark, form-fitting clothing. It's your standard outfit for crawling around in dusty vents.

Your gun lies at the foot of the bed. You can’t take it with you, but you’ll feel its absence on your hip keenly.

It’s not that you want to shoot the hapless museum guards. But you’d like some insurance against the renegade in your midst.

Whatever Gil’s game is, it’ll all be over soon. After tonight, you'll conclude your business with him, and you can go your separate ways.

There’s a gentle knock on your room door, like whoever’s on the other side doesn’t want anyone else to know they’re there.

Sam… or Gil?

You go and open the door, refusing to let anyone intimidate you in your own motel room. But you’re still relieved to find Sam on the other side. He’s in a janitorial jumpsuit that Gil swiped from the museum, a fake nametag pinned to his breast.

“Thank god it’s you. I thought you were that creep.” You look past him, scanning the parking lot. No one’s there.

His eyebrows lower into a frown. “He been hassling you?”

“Not directly.” You shrug. “But I know he’s up to something.”

“Well, if he tries anything, you tell me. All right?”

You’d like to think you can handle one guy on your own. But Sam’s hard eyes tell you this isn’t up for debate.

“All right.”

He nods. “You gonna let me in, or what?”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Since when do you care about good ideas?”

“Ugh, fine. Come in.” You step aside, shutting the door behind him as soon as he’s past the threshold.

He spins you, and shoves your back against the door. His mouth is hot on yours, his hands moulding to your body. He kisses you, fast, and rough, before pulling away. “I love you in this outfit,” he growls.

You whimper. You heard that in a different way than he intended it, didn’t you?

He backs off further, his eyes murky. “I, uh… you know what I mean. You look really fucking hot.”

“Uh-huh.” You cross your arms, and put even more space between the two of you. “So, what’s up?”

He leans a hip against the wall, and crosses his ankles. “You ready to go? It’s nearly showtime.”

“Almost.” You pull your hair up, and tie it back. You inspect your throat in the mirror again. The suck-mark is faded some, but it’s still going to need a layer of makeup to hide it fully. You huff.

“Still pissed at me about that, huh?”

You frown at his reflection behind yours. “I just can’t believe you could be so stupid.”

He sighs. “I’m not having this argument again, all right? Let’s just move on.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one walking around like a god damn vampire victim.” You rub the concealer into your skin. “Would it kill you to be subtle for once? Jesus.”

You’re hot all over with prickly anger. It’s the shitty week getting to you. His unfailing irreverence isn’t helping, though.

“You didn’t seem to care too much about being subtle, when you had your foot all up in my crotch.”

He can’t ever admit he’s wrong, can he?

You’re too alike.

“Don’t change the subject.” You scowl. “You bit me, so that some loser guy would know that you got here first. Next time, why don’t you just pee all over me? Really mark your territory.”

“You’re being so…” His hands squeeze into fists, before releasing again. “Never mind.”

You round on him. “What?”

“Nothing.” He clenches his jaw.

“No, go on. Say it.”

“Immature.”

“There it is.”

You glare at each other. Immature. How dare he? Does he think he gets to sweep your feelings aside, just because he’s so much older than you?

He shakes his head, casting off his dourness like he’s shrugging out of a drenched coat. He plasters that stupid smirk on his face. “You’re just being bitchy because it’s been a week since you’ve had a good seeing to.”

Does he think that’s going to make you laugh?

“No, I’m not. God, not everything is about sex.”

No matter how much you swear that it is.

His eyes soften, and he takes a step towards you. “What’s really going on with you?”

“With me? Gil’s going to try and screw us over tonight. All of us. And we can’t tell my uncle anything.” You heave a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been so fucking stressed out, all week. But I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“It’s okay.” He looks down. “But maybe if it’s not fun anymore, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“What?”

“Just… forget it. I’ll see you in the car.”

“Sam…”

He turns and leaves your room, shutting the door softly behind him.

What the hell just happened?

You inch your way through the air ducts above the Californias exhibit. The tight space is less claustrophobic than the suffocating atmosphere in the truck.

None of you spoke to each other on the ride here, all wrapped up in your own thoughts. Uncle Sully must have thought you were super focussed on the upcoming job. Gil was probably putting the finishing touches on his little scheme. Whatever it is.

You wiggle around a corner, and there’s a tiny vent opening ahead of you. It leads to the outside, but it’s too small to see much through. Voices float up to you from below, where there should be silence.

You pause, listening.

“I don’t know how you get any work done with her around.” That’s Gil, all right.

“Well, like this, usually,” Sam answers.

They must be skulking through the shadowy gardens that run along the edge of the building. It’s unlikely a passing guard would hear their conversation. But their murmuring tones echo in the narrow ventilation shaft.

“I’m just saying, I don’t blame you for sampling the goods.”

You grimace, and you imagine Sam’s face is twisting in much the same way.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, pal.”

Gil laughs. “Please, don’t insult my intelligence. The old man might be too senile to see what’s going on under that moustache of his, but I’m not.”

“Don’t know what to tell you. You’ve got your facts twisted.”

“Hmm? My mistake, then. I suppose you won’t mind me getting my hands on her, in that case.”

What a slimeball. Who talks like that? Sam’s going to laugh in his face—

“Look,” Sam says, and there’s grunting, and shuffling. A thump, like he shoves Gil against the museum wall. “You just stay away from her, all right? Focus on getting the job done, and then getting as far away from me as you possibly can.”

You hold your breath.

“You’ve made your point. Get the fuck off me.” Gil groans, maybe forcing Sam away from him with great effort.

“There you go,” Sam says. “Now earn your cut, and get us into the building.”

They move away from your little spy-window. Your heart pounds in the returning silence.

Sam brought up ending things, earlier. But he still lets himself get wound up by a sleaze like Gil Dominguez?

Is he done with you, or not?

Damn it, you don’t have time for this. You need to be in that power room before they trigger the alarm on the display case.

Get a move on.

You swipe the key-card that Gil provided, gaining access to the power room. Huh. You half-expected it to be a dud. He’s good for something, at least.

The overhead light buzzes to life. Now, where are the fuse boxes?

Sam and Gil should have sabotaged the emergency generators by now. All you need to do is flip these switches, and then gun it over to the outlaw exhibition.

That’s where you’ll find tonight’s prize. The twin revolvers of legendary bandito Rattlesnake Chavez. He had them with him when Texas Rangers gunned him down in a shootout. Collectors passed them around as trophies for the last one-and-a-half centuries. Now, they’ve wound up here in Tijuana, on proud display.

The breakers snap and click as you trip them, plunging yourself into darkness. You thumb your flashlight on.

Get out of here, before someone comes to investigate!

You slink around corners, creeping down the staff-only museum corridors. Soon enough, you wind up in the outlaws exhibit.

You’re the first one here. The boys must be slacking.

The giant, north-facing windows look out onto the Mesoamerican garden outside. There’s enough light to see by, if you let your eyes adjust to the gloom. So, you turn off your flashlight and hook it back onto your belt.

The gallery is silent. Boxy shapes of glass cases jut out of the shadows, like high-rises in a city skyline. You pad over to the centre of the room, looking for the Rattlesnake Chavez display.

There it is!

Two old-timey revolvers sit in matching cradles, suffocating in their glass prison. They’re ready to be liberated.

You move closer. With the electronic lock out of action, it should be a cinch to pick the mechanical one. You get out your lockpick kit.

Two sets of purposeful, but calm footfalls sound behind you. These are no panicked security guards, bumbling around in the dark.

You get to picking the lock. “You two took your sweet time,” you whisper.

Sam comes to your side. “Those gennies are tricky bastards. Gave me a little trouble.”

You swallow. The generators gave him trouble? Or Gil?

It’s too dark to meet Sam’s eyes, so you just keep fiddling with the lock mechanism.

Do you even want to meet his eyes, right now? Are you broken up? Were you together in the first place?

Gil grunts. “How long is this going to take? I thought you were supposed to be good.”

With a click, the lock snaps undone. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “I am good.”

Sam swings the glass case open, and retrieves the dual pistols from their enclosure. “These are so cool,” he says.

“They’re all right.” You’d be more into them if you hadn’t had that argument earlier.

God, since when do you let yourself get all twisted up over a guy?

You take the guns from him, while he shucks off his rucksack, and unzips it. Then you wrap them up in a snug, protective blanket, and slip the bundle into the backpack.

You shoulder the bag. “Let’s go.”

“It’s this way,” Gil says. “Come on.”

This was the plan, wasn’t it? He’d have routes planned to get you all in and out. But do you want to follow him?

He’s done his part, so far. Maybe he’s just a creep, and he hasn’t been plotting against you all week.

You and Sam nod to each other stiffly, before following Gil out of the gallery. He leads you to the statue garden outside, over a low fence, and to freedom.

You only start to hear sirens squealing in the distance when you’re already at the rendezvous point.

This was easy, thank to Gil’s diligence. That leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

You don’t dwell on it though, piling into the pickup after him and Sam. Uncle Sully puts pedal to metal, and has you all out of dodge in the blink of an eye.

Maybe everything will work out, after all.

You’re in the parking lot of some twenty-four-hour fast-food place. The buyer will be here to meet you, soon. You have the most glamourous job in the world.

You sit beside your uncle in the truck, checking your bag. Rattlesnake’s guns are still safely swaddled inside.

“What the hell’s taking those two so long?” your uncle says, huffing.

You glance at the rear-view mirror, spotting Sam and Gil on the other side of the parking lot. They left a while ago, for a bathroom break. Now they’re huddled together, like they’re deep in conversation. That can’t be good.

“Boys,” you sigh. “Wait here, I’ll go see what’s the hold up.”

“All right, darlin. I leave it in your capable hands.”

You drop your bag onto the bench seat, and hop out of the pickup. Your pulse accelerates, and your stomach sinks.

What could Gil and Sam possibly have to talk about? Is Gil showing his hand at last? Were you wrong to give him the benefit of the doubt?

You’ve got to defuse this, before Uncle Sully comes to investigate. Before the buyer gets here, and things get even more complicated.

You stalk across the lot, and Sam looks up at you. His face is stern. He’s not happy, or even relieved, to see you.

Don’t let it get to you.

It’s not like it’s your fault that he’s in this situation in the first place. Right?

Gil turns to watch your approach, sneering.

Take a deep breath. You’ve got this.

“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” You stand beside them, and cross your arms over your chest.

Sam’s lips are tight. He speaks in a low voice. “Surprise, surprise, this asshole wants a bigger cut.”

“Oh, really?”

Gil laughs. “What, you don’t think I deserve it? Keeping secrets is hard work.”

You fix your neutral expression. “So, a shakedown in the back of a taco joint? Classy.”

He ignores you, and turns back to Sam. “I want another thirty percent. Or, I’m walking over there right now, and telling Sullivan how you’ve been sticking your fingers in the contraband.”

Sam shoves him, making him stagger back a few paces. “Go ahead, say more things like that. See what happens.”

“Sam!” you hiss, whipping your head around to where your uncle still sits in the truck.

“Make a scene, and see what happens!” Gil rights his shirt. “You think I won’t tell him?” He jerks his head towards you. “You think he’ll still look at his precious princess the same way? When he finds out she’s some ex-con’s whore?”

How would Uncle Sully look at you, if he found out you’ve been sneaking around behind his back?

Shit. Don’t let him see he’s hit a nerve there.

“You think you’re the first guy to call me a whore?” You shake your head.

But Sam isn’t shrugging this one off. “Damn it, I warned you.”

And, almost faster than your eyes can follow, he yanks his arm back, fist clenched.

He punches Gil in the jaw, flesh and bone colliding with a smack.

Gil wobbles, then collapses against the restaurant wall behind him. He slumps into a heap on the ground, his head lolling against his chest. He’s out.

Holy shit.

“Trust me, you deserved it,” Sam spits. His knuckles are shiny with blood.

The pickup’s door opens, and slams closed behind you. Fuck.

“Sam? What on God’s goddamn green earth are you doing?” Uncle Sully comes storming towards you.

Is this it? Is this how it ends?

“Let me handle this,” Sam says, not looking at you.

“Like hell.” You square your shoulders.

Sam’s new to this whole hiding-stuff-from-your-uncle thing. You’ve been doing it for twenty years.

You’ve never felt quite this guilty about it, though.

“I can explain, Uncle Sully.”

Think. Think. Think.

He looks to you, expectant. “You’d better get started, then.”

Sam opens his mouth. “Listen, Vic—"

“Sam was protecting me!”

Both of them wear matching confused expressions as they look at you, mouths open and brows quirked.

You steel yourself. “Gil has been creeping on me for the last week. It kind of freaked me out. I was worried he was going to try something, so I told Sam about it. And, well…”

Sam nods, jaw clenched. He’s caught on. “Yeah, he’s a real piece of work, all right. When he admitted he had his eye on you like that, I just… I couldn’t let him near you. It was sick.”

Uncle Sully squeezes his eyes shut, and shakes his head. He turns to you, with sad eyes. “Why didn’t you say something to me? He’d have been off this job faster than you could blink.”

You don’t have to fake the way your face crumples. Guilt is a hell of a drug. “I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle myself.”

“Ah, don’t be stupid.” He hauls you into a bearhug. “We’re a team, you and me. We look out for each other. And you can tell me anything, darlin. Anything at all.”

You hug him back, breathing in the cigar smoke and old spice. You catch Sam’s eye, over your uncle’s shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, his posture slumped.

“And you, boyo.” Your uncle releases you, and holds his hand out for Sam to shake. “You’re a good man, Samuel Drake. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but there’s no one else I’d trust to watch her back.”

Your insides shrivel up into cringing knots. Why did he have to say that? Can this get any worse?

Of course it can. Why even ask?

Gil murmurs, coming around. He shuffles on the ground, squinting up at you all.

“My head.” He groans. “What happened?”

Uncle Sully prods him with his foot. “You’re off the team, Dominguez. Get the hell out of my sight.”

That wakes him up. “What? You can’t do that to me, old man! I—”

“You say one more word to me,” your uncle says, his face red and blotchy. “And I’ll make sure you never work in this goddamn business again, you hear?”

Gil struggles upright, and spits a bloody gob at your uncle’s feet. “You’re crazy, all of you. I want my cut!”

“I’ll mail you a cheque. My sight. Get out of it.”

Gil grunts, and shuffles off towards the road, holding his jaw.

Sam pats Uncle Sully on the shoulder. “Didn’t know you had that much clout around here.”

“I don’t.” He smirks a little. “But he doesn’t know that.”

You shift around, nervous energy bouncing in your muscles. You should be relieved; Gil Dominguez is someone else’s problem now, and your uncle is still none the wiser. But it’s hard to feel anything past the overwhelming shame.

A black van curves into the parking lot, its windows tinted opaque.

“Ah, this must be her,” Uncle Sully says. “I’ll deal with this, kids. Why don’t you go inside, get something to eat?”

“Sure. Come on, Samuel.” You lead the way to the front of the building.

You still don’t look at him. Things were rocky before. Now they’re downright precarious. What can you do?

There’s no way you’ll be able to eat anything, but a warm drink to calm your nerves won’t go amiss. And you have a feeling…

Sam leans in close to you, when your uncle’s out of earshot. “We need to talk.”

Yep. You need to talk.

Sam sits across from you, at the sticky Formica table. He looks down into his coffee cup, and remains silent.

You’ll go first, then. “You shouldn’t have punched Gil like that. You knocked him out cold.”

Sam’s hand clenches around the handle of his cup. His knuckles are still red, but he washed the blood off in the restroom. “I wasn’t going to let him say those things about you.”

“They’re just words, Sam.”

“Well, yeah, but…” He sighs. “This has gone way too far. Before, when we were just fucking around, it was great. It was casual. I like casual. I’m a casual guy—”

“You’re babbling.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah.”

He leans forward in his seat. “Look, I can’t be casual about this anymore. About you. Maybe it was stupid of me to think I ever could.” His eyes catch yours. “But the way I feel right now? The best sex in the world ain’t worth this much guilt.”

You nod. “I’m sorry. I panicked, and I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know he was going to react like that.”

“It’s not your fault. But when he fucking shook my hand, I about died inside.”

“Me too.”

The two of you lapse into silence. So, this is it? It’s over?

It seems like such a waste.

“What would be worth it?” you say, before you’ve really thought it through.

“Huh?”

“What if we weren’t just fucking around? If we weren’t casual? What if… what if I had actual feelings for you? Would it be worth it then?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…”

Wait, what the hell are you saying?

“I’m saying I want to be your girlfriend. I don’t care if we have to stay secret a little while longer, until we figure some things out. I want to be with you.”

He shakes his head. “Are you crazy? Victor would never let that fly.”

“He doesn’t get to choose who I date.” You manage a smile. “And thank god for that.”

Sam still doesn’t look convinced. “But I’m so much older than you.”

“Shit, really? And you don’t look a day over twenty!”

“I’m serious. Two decades is a lot. It’s not exactly normal, is it?”

You scoff. “What’s normal? I’m not some fresh graduate, just now learning that my degree is useless. You’re not married, with two-point-five kids. Face it, Sam. Our lives aren’t normal.”

“So, you… you really wouldn’t prefer someone your own age?”

“Do you know what guys my age are like?”

“Uh, no.”

“Boring! They’re either civilians, in which case I don’t relate to them at all. Or, they’re in the business, and they think they’re so special because they spent a week in jail once.” You tear a sweetener packet open, and dump it into your coffee. It’s much too sweet now, but you power through. “Either way, all they talk about is themselves. And sports, probably. I don’t know. I don’t spend a lot of time around them.”

“And you don’t want to.”

You reach across the table to take his hand in yours. “Maybe I have daddy issues coming out of my ears. Sue me. All I know is that we’re really fucking good together.”

He grins at that. “Can’t argue there.” And then, twining your fingers together, and lowering his voice, “And the whole ‘daddy’ thing? I’ve never done that before, but… with you, I like it.”

“I like it, too." You smile. "I guess the only question left is, do you like me, as well?”

He swallows. “I want to be with you, baby. But I don’t want to be responsible for ruining what you have with your uncle.”

Your heart leaps. He fell in the deep end with you, didn’t he?

“Don’t worry about that,” you whisper. “I’m his favourite person in the world, he couldn’t stay mad at me if he wanted to.”

“As long as you’re sure. All I ever wanted is for you to be happy, you know.”

The warmth of his affection wraps around you like you wish his arms would.

Just wait ‘til you get back to the motel.

Normally after a successful job, you’d all find the nearest bar for celebratory drinks. Or at least smoke cigars together before heading to bed. None of you are feeling it tonight, though.

Uncle Sully’s in his room, two doors down, alone with a bottle of scotch. You’re with Sam, in his arms.

This is dicey. You should take the truck out again. But you can’t—the policia might be on the lookout.

Plus, you can’t wait that long.

You’re kissing, and he’s holding you tight against his firm body. His jumpsuit is rough against your fingers as you clutch him to you.

He pulls back a little, and frames your face in his hands. “I know I say this all the time, but you really are beautiful.”

You look away, and pull down his zipper. “It’s dark in here.”

“Hey, don’t give me that.” He tucks your hair behind your ears. “You know you’re gorgeous.”

You bite your lip against a grin. “Well, yeah, okay.”

“I wish we had more time together,” he murmurs. “We’re always in such a rush. The things I’d do to you, if I had a good few hours.”

“Well, I for one would love to see what you could accomplish, given enough time.” You play with his collar. “But that’ll have to wait.”

He looks down at you, his eyes crinkled. “So, may I interest you in the usual?”

“The usual?”

“Y’know, the quickie and no cuddling combo? Wham, bam, with a side of thank you, ma’am?”

You snort, holding in belly laughs that your uncle would definitely hear. “Do you have any more of those?”

“Well, yeah. But we’re wasting time, here.”

“Damn, we are.” You stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him again. “Put me to bed, daddy.”

He wrests free of his jumpsuit, and then attacks your clothes. He tears the skin-tight outfit right off of you. You’ll never be cold, with the warmth of his body so near, and you’ll never be embarrassed, in the warmth of his gaze.

He walks you backwards to the bed, and climbs on with you. You lie on your sides, facing each other, and he hooks your leg over his hip. Now he has access to your clit, and he teases it with the pads of his fingers.

Your ribs are an ivory birdcage, your heart an entrapped lovebird. This twitchy nervousness you haven’t felt with him before, not even the first time.

Is it because your uncle is almost within earshot?

Is it because this is the first time you’re being intimate with your boyfriend?

Your boyfriend, who’s dauntless, and dangerous. He can be violent, but he brings you to the light.

Fucking him was always a bad idea. Dating him, even worse. But when the devil calls your name, you chase it.

You always have.

You tangle both hands in his hair, and kiss him. Your tongue seeks his out, and you whine when they meet.

He shifts a little, his half-hard cock trapped between you. You reach down and squeeze him in your fist. He’s warm in your hand, blood pumping and filling him out as you stroke.

“Fuck me,” you whisper. “Please”

Between your legs, he sinks a finger into your slick heat. You gasp at the snug fit. He pumps fast, to open you up rather than get you off.

It gets you off, anyway.

He shushes you when you mewl. “I know, baby. I know. It’s been over a week, and you’re all tight for me, but you’ve gotta stay quiet.”

You squirm under him, and open your legs wider. “Hurry up.”

“You’re not ready yet.” He squeezes another finger inside.

“I can take it. Come on.”

He kisses your forehead. “Nah, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Sam.” You huff, and grab him around the wrist. You pull his hand away. “I said I can take it.”

He looks down at you, static crackling between you. “All right.”

You always get your way.

You roll over, getting up on your hands and knees. “You promised me a quickie, didn’t you?”

“Hmph.” He tugs your hips towards him.

You lean down on your elbows, your breasts crushed against the bedsheets, your ass up. He squeezes a cheek with one hand, the other aligning himself. The head of his cock breaches you, but barely. It stings a little.

He grunts. “You’re too tight.”

“No, I’m not,” you say, panting. “Keep going.”

He rocks against you, gaining centimetres. “I’m not hurting you, am I? Are you okay?” His voice strains.

“How does it feel?”

His hands rub smooth lines up your back. “You feel incredible.”

“Then I’m okay.”

You’ve been shot; this is nothing.

He rolls his hips, slowly working his way further into you. At last, your body yields to him, and he sinks deep inside.

You moan, before you can catch yourself.

“You can’t do that, baby,” he whispers, breathing harder already. “Keep quiet.”

“Sorry, daddy.” You bite the pillow, as he starts fucking you properly. You can’t so much as squeak in pleasure.

The mattress didn’t get the memo; groaning and creaking beneath you. It’s loud. Too loud.

“This piece of shit bed,” he mutters. He keeps stopping and starting, adjusting his rhythm and angle. He's trying to find a position that makes the bed protest less. “Fuck. This isn’t going to work.”

You turn to glare at him over your shoulder. “You can’t stop.”

“Who said anything about stopping?” He grins. “Get on the floor.”

He pulls out, and slaps you on the ass to get you moving. You drag the comforter down with you, to cover the suspicious sticky patch on the carpet.

You assume position again, but you can’t wait for him any longer. So you slide a hand beneath you, your fingers filling the void he left.

It’s not enough.

He gets behind you again, and grabs your ass, lifting your cheeks a little, so he can watch your hand move.

“Damn, I want to watch you fuck yourself sometime.”

You spread your pussy for him. “Whatever you want. You should fuck me now, though. Please?”

He moves your hand away, and you retreat to rub your clit. He pushes into you again, stuffing you full in a way your fingers just can’t match.

“Ah!” you cry out, stupid, without thinking.

His hand clamps over your mouth, and he leans down to murmur in your ear. “I’m not gonna tell you again, sweetness. Shut the fuck up.”

Your stomach clenches in excitement. He kisses the back of your head, as if to let you know he’s only playing.

He picks up the pace, hammering you harder. You want to scream under him, but you can’t. Your mouth hangs open against his palm, your tongue tasting his skin. You breathe through your nose harshly, sweaty all over.

No boyfriend has ever fucked you like this.

He’s larger than life. He’s the only man you’ve ever wanted to be good to.

Well, family aside.

He groans behind you, muttering “Ah, fuck,” under his breath. He releases your mouth. His big hands grope your tits, weighing them in his palms, and pinching your nipples.

A moan seizes in your throat, but you won’t let it escape. Sam’s trusting you to stay silent.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he whispers.

You draw tighter circles around your clit. “Me neither.”

Your fingers bump his cock.

“Reach back,” he pants, “squeeze daddy’s balls.”

You drop onto a shoulder, and stretch your arm as far as you can. You catch his balls in your hand as he fucks into you.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His hips stutter, his hands clenching around your tits. “I’m coming.”

You can feel it. His balls pulse in your palm, shooting his come deep into you. You release him, strumming your clit again, until you follow him into bliss.

He slips out of you, when you cinch in too tight, and he sinks to the floor next to you, his chest heaving.

You collapse beside him, and he wraps an arm around your middle.

He kisses your sweaty hair. “You’re amazing.”

You snuggle into him, nestling your butt to his softened cock. “I’m your girlfriend.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. That’s gonna take some getting used to.”

“I should get up.”

“In a minute.” His arm tightens around you, his thumb stroking your skin.

"I thought this was the 'no cuddling combo.'"

"Shut up, sweetheart."

You grin. "Okay, daddy."

“I’m sorry we fought earlier.”

“Me, too.” You stroke the hair on the back of his arm. “I think I’m about to get my period, so I’ll try not to bite your head off for no reason over the next few days.”

He rocks with laughter. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

You fall silent, and bask in his embrace. You’re a sweaty heap of limbs on the floor, and your heart starts up that anxious flutter again.

In a minute, you’ll get up. You’ll get dressed, and slink back to your room. You’ll shower, washing the scent of Sam’s skin from your body.

In a minute.

You’re cuddling with your boyfriend, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this took SO long, but here we go 😘😘😘  
> don't you just hate when real life happens?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: period sex, and blood

You finish drying your hair, and rub your eyes, yawning. The sun’s coming up. You stayed in Sam’s room too long.

You only kissed him goodbye an hour ago, but you miss him. Should you call him? Is that too clingy?

You should go out for a smoke and ground yourself. Floating around on cloud nine like this can’t be healthy. You pull on some shorts and a baggy shirt. If you see anyone, you can just cross your arms over yourself. You’re not strapping yourself into a bra to smoke a cigarette in the parking lot.

You let yourself outside, and you can’t stop the beatific smile that worms its way onto your face.

Sam’s out here. He’s by the vending machines, buying a soda. A cigarette hangs from his lips.

You spark up, and mosey on over to join him.

“Hey,” you say softly.

He jumps a little, but when he turns around, he’s grinning. “Hey yourself. Can’t stay away, huh?”

“I really, really can’t.”

His eyes dart around, before he swoops in to kiss your cheek. “Yeah, me neither.”

You giggle, as the two of you straighten and put a little space between you. This is stupid, isn’t it? You’ve been fucking for three weeks. You shouldn’t be all queasy and excitable just from the proximity of him.

Are you lovesick, or something?

He gazes at you with the softest look in his eyes. “Hey, go and get dressed. I’m taking you for breakfast.”

You grin. “What?”

“We’ll go to that diner across the street. C’mon, it’s early. Your uncle will still be asleep.”

“Wait right here,” you say. “I’ll just be a minute!”

You flick the stub of your cigarette away, and bolt back inside.

Breakfast with your boyfriend? This is a bona-fide date.

But things like hair and makeup take time. Time the two of you never have. So, you settle for clean clothes, and drag a comb through your hair.

He won’t mind. He’s seen you in much worse states. Like that time in Bolivia, when you fell face-first into that pile of…

The memory of his laughter still rings in your ears. You burn in recalled embarrassment. That’s a moment you’d rather forget.

Lightyears faster than your uncle Sully would ever believe, you’re ready to go. You meet Sam outside where you left him.

The corners of his mouth tilt up when he sees you. “I’m a hell of a lucky guy.”

You flush, and take his hand. “I haven’t even told you what I’ll let you do to me under the table, yet.”

He groans. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Maybe you do. I could be a punishment in disguise, for all your sins.”

He laughs, as you cross the street hand-in-hand. “That sounds about right, actually.” He holds the door to the diner open for you, and you step inside the coffee-and-eggs scented haven. “Where do you want to sit?”

“What about over there?” You point. “Inconspicuous, right?”

“Relax. Victor’s not gonna be up for hours.”

You settle into the corner booth, with Sam at your side. The place is mostly empty. A couple of world-weary trucker types sit at the counter, and a guy with a newspaper occupies the seat by the window.

Not the most romantic setting, but the floor could be lined with rose petals for all you care. You’re with Sam. In a normal, couple-y setting. Doing something normal couples do.

Who’d have thought you two had it in you?

The middle-aged waitress rounds the counter, wielding a coffeepot. She looks about as excited as one would expect, to be working at the crack of dawn.

“Café?” she says.

“Sí, por favor.” Sam smiles at her, and orders breakfast for the two of you. “Eso es todo. Por ahora,” he says, when she asks if he wants anything else.

His eye flickers into the ghost of a wink, and her dour expression clears up into something almost sunny.

She leaves the table, and you shake your head.

“Do you have to flirt with every waitress you see?”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit. I didn’t—”

“Maybe it’s you who’d like to be with someone your own age,” you say, finger to your lips, like you’re deep in thought. But then you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’ve come to accept that’s just part of who you are.”

“It kind of is, you know?” He looks at you, sheepish. “I mean, I’ll absolutely rein it in, if you want me to. Just say the word.”

You rub your foot against his, under the table. “Don’t worry. I’m secure in our relationship.”

Relationship. The word rises between you, like the steam from your coffee mugs.

He squeezes your knee, and he looks down at the table, shy, somehow. “You think everyone in here thinks I’m your dad?”

“No. They probably haven’t even noticed us.”

“You’re right. I just… Most of my life, I’ve been up to something I shouldn’t have. So, it’s hard to let go of the… shiftiness, sometimes, I guess.” He looks up at you. “Does that make any sense?”

You lay your hand over his, and rub his skin with your thumb. “Of course.”

And, before you can second guess yourself, you scoot over in the seat, and kiss him. He kisses back, soft, and chaste. But when you pull away, there’s a look of horror on his face.

“What…?” You turn to follow his gaze.

Your uncle stands at the cash register, staring searing daggers into Sam.

No. What the fuck? He’s supposed to be asleep!

His lip curls, and he slams some bills onto the counter, before storming out of the diner. Three to-go coffee cups sit in their cardboard holder, left behind.

You’re out of your seat before you can think. You have to go after him.

Sam’s right behind you, fumbling with his wallet. You leave him to pay for your order, and chase after Uncle Sully.

It’s okay. You can fix this. It’s okay.

You wrench the door open, and let it swing closed behind you. Your uncle’s pacing just outside. You go to him, wringing your hands. Your heart thumps in your chest, like a prize-fighter training with a heavy bag.

“Uncle Su—"

The vein on his forehead is ugly and raised, but that’s not why you recoil. He’s never looked so disappointed in you as he does right now.

Not that time you flubbed a job so badly, you cost him twenty thousand dollars. Or when you were a kid, and he caught you stealing the designer clothes you were so angry you couldn’t afford. Not even when you dropped out of college, and society in general, and he had to bail you out of jail two-and-a-half years ago.

He opens and closes his mouth a few times. You brace yourself.

You thought you felt bad before? That was nothing compared to what you’re in for!

But then Sam’s solid presence is at your back, and your uncle returns his ire to him.

“You son of a bitch,” he says, his face morphing into rage.

Sam holds his hands up. “Victor, c’mon. It’s not—”

“Don’t you dare tell me it’s not what it looks like, bucko.”

“It’s not what you think, all right?”

“So you’re not taking advantage of my troubled, young niece?”

“What?” you blurt. Is that really how he sees you? “I’m not some pre-teen delinquent anymore.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Like hell you aren’t. I promised your parents I would look out for you. But I should have known you’d make it as difficult as you possibly could.”

You swallow, your lip quivering. He doesn’t mean that, does he?

Sam catches your fingers with his, but the movement draws Uncle Sully’s gaze. Through with you, he rounds on Sam next.

“And you,” he growls. “You made a promise, too. That doesn’t mean anything to you, though, does it?”

“Victor, calm down. We can talk about this. There’s no reason to blow a gasket.”

Uncle Sully advances on him. “I knew you were a snake in the grass, the moment I met you. Now, her father might not be here to kick your ass, but I sure as hell am!”

“Will the both of you just stop it?” Your words go unheeded.

For the second time today, you watch as fist collides with face.

Sam staggers back, hunched over. He covers his nose and mouth, blood dripping between his fingers. “You trying to break my nose, old man?”

“I ought to break your goddamned neck!”

“Stop it! For fuck’s sake.” You go to Sam’s side. “Come on, honey. I’ll clean that up for you.”

“Don’t think I’m letting him on my plane, darlin.”

You glare at your uncle. “Don’t ‘darlin’ me. We’ll make our own way home.” And, turning to the diner window, where all the occupants have gathered to watch your spat, “Show’s over, folks!”

You take Sam by the arm, and guide him back across the street.

Well, that could have gone better, couldn’t it?

“I can do this myself, you know,” Sam says, as you wipe the last of the blood from his face.

“I know.” You move his hand back to his nose. “Keep that ice on it.”

“All right.”

You get up to throw the bloody paper towels into the trash. “Your black eye isn’t too bad. When the swelling comes down, I’ll see if your nose needs setting.”

He groans. “I don’t want to have to go through that again.”

You try to swallow your words, but they force their way out anyway. “It’s your own fault. You should have left him to me.”

“Yeah, right. How would that look? Me abandoning you, the second the going gets tough.”

“I wouldn’t care.”

“Well, I would! And so would Victor.”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

“If he’s ever going to come around to the idea of us together, I need to prove to him that I’m not just using you to get my rocks off.”

“Why do you care what he thinks?”

“Because you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. I know you do.”

“All right. I do.” You go to sit beside him on the bed, and let your face fall into gloom. “I didn’t know you thought about stuff like that.”

“I meant what I said before. I want to be with you.”

You look at him, and sniff. Your eyes are watery, all of a sudden.

His mouth hangs open. “Oh, no, baby. Don’t cry. I’ve never seen you cry.”

You wipe your eyes, blinking the wayward tears away. He wraps an arm around you, and you lay your head on his shoulder.

“If you want,” he says quietly, “you could go out that door right now. Find your uncle, tell him what a dirtbag I am. He’ll take you back in a heartbeat.”

“That’s okay. He’s just being dramatic. He’ll come around, right?”

He sighs. “I sure hope so.”

You sit in your seat on the plane, the view doing nothing to quell the unease within you. You haven’t flown commercial in years. You haven’t had to.

Sam sprang for first class tickets, no doubt trying to cheer you up. The fancy wine they serve is helping, a little.

So, you’re already at the stage in your relationship where you turn to alcohol to cope with your problems. That doesn’t bode well, does it?

Sam’s leaning back in his seat, eyes closed. The hostess gives him a look every time she passes, but you don’t even have to pretend to burn with jealousy. She’s not checking him out because he’s hot. He’s got a shiner of a black eye, and his nose is still swollen.

Say what you will about Uncle Sully, the man packs a punch.

You poke Sam in the chest, until he opens his eyes. “Tell me something.”

“What? You all right?”

“I want to know more about you. I mean, I don’t even know anything about your family.”

“That’s my line. Besides, you know my brother.”

“You know my uncle.”

“Touché.” He holds your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “What about your parents? I figure they’re not in the picture.”

“It’s… They…” Damn, how did this get flipped on you?

“Hey, it’s all right. I’ll go first, if you want.”

“Okay.”

He hums to himself, deciding on a fun factoid. “Did you know Cassie’s named after my mom? She died when Nathan was just a kid.”

“I’m so sorry,” you say. You’d never given much thought to where he came from, before now. But now you want to know, more than anything. “Tell me about her.”

“I don’t remember her face so well. But she had a beautiful smile, and the loudest laugh you’ve ever heard.” He grins. “She always used to say I was the funny one.”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, she used to say Nathan was the funny one, too. But I think she was just humouring him.”

You nod. “Of course. I wish I could have met her.”

“Yeah, me too. She’d have liked you.”

“Mothers never like me.” You giggle. “What about your dad?”

“Ah, he was a drunk waste of space. Gave us up to the orphanage first chance he got.”

“Well, shit. What happened to him?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. Could still be out there somewhere, I guess.”

“Fuck him, then.” You snuggle further into your seat, and squeeze his hand. “What was the orphanage like?”

“Catholic.”

“Oh. With nuns, and everything?”

“Yup. This was the eighties, too. So they could get real handy with those rulers.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, my god.”

“That’s a slap on the wrist.” He gives you a look. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain. C’mon.”

“I’m sorry, Father,” you say, pursing your lips to keep from giggling.

He leans in to you, voice low, and eyes gleaming. “That’s ‘daddy’ to you, baby.”

You shake your head at him, but you’re smiling. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell him a little about your life, too.

When you land in New Orleans, you book in at your regular motel. This time, Sam joins you.

Your duffel bags sit side-by-side on the bed. The bed you’ll be sharing tonight.

You’ll sleep next to him, undisturbed, for a whole night.

Your insides twist and cramp. In nervousness? Excitement? Or something else…

Oh, no. You count the weeks in your head. You’re due, aren’t you?

Sam flops onto the bed, and turns on the TV. He pats the comforter beside him.

You shake your head. “I have to use the bathroom.”

He shrugs. “You go do that, then.”

You root around in your bag first for your supplies, before shutting yourself in the bathroom. Why would you get your period now? The first time you and Sam are free to be wrapped around each other all night long.

You slump onto the toilet, and sigh. Mother nature screws you again.

You rest your elbows on your knees and hold your head in your hands. What a fucking day this has been.

You’re trying not to take it to heart. Uncle Sully was mad, and caught off guard. He didn’t mean everything he said to you, or Sam. He’ll reach out, when the shock wears off.

Won’t he?

Your conversation with Elena comes back to you. Sam’s going to have to come clean to Nate soon. Who knows how he’s going to take it? Those get togethers that you love so much could be ruined. And it'll all be your fault.

Your shoulders shake in a sob. Did you make a huge mistake?

If you hadn’t gone to Sam’s hotel room that night, in your sexy dress, wouldn’t he be better off?

Would you be?

Hot tears spill over your cheeks.

You jump when Sam knocks on the door.

“I can hear you crying in there,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” You hurry to finish up, and then open the door.

His face falls when he sees your red and puffy eyes. “Oh, sweetheart. Come here.”

You step into his arms, and he holds you tight. He kisses the top of your head. You can’t help it. What is it about being comforted that just makes you want to cry harder?

He rubs your back. “Is there anything I can do? Anything at all.”

You shake your head, accidentally wiping your nose on his shirt. “Do you think things would have been better if we never got together?”

He pulls back, and holds your arms. “Better? Hell no. Simpler, maybe. But I don’t want to go back to wanting what I can’t have. Unless…” His lips squeeze together for a moment. “You do?”

Do you?

“No. I don’t want to go back. I’m happy when I’m with you.”

He snorts. “You could have fooled me.”

You wipe your eyes. “Oh this? I’m not upset, I’m just on my period.”

“Right.”

“Shut up.”

He squeezes you tight again. “Try to relax, baby. Victor won’t stay mad forever, I promise.”

You thump your forehead to his chest. “I’m exhausted. Can we go to bed?”

“Of course. I’m beat, too.”

Sam’s asleep behind you, his breathing deep and slow. He’s spooned up to you, his arm around your waist.

You’re wide awake, and you’re hornier than you’ve any right to be. His breath tickles the back of your neck, and his body is warm and firm against your own. You shift a little, rubbing your butt against him.

His arm tightens around you. “Will you go to sleep?” he says, voice heavy.

“I didn’t realise you were awake,” you whisper.

“What’s the matter, sweetness? You an insomniac now?”

“Not exactly.” You wiggle your butt again. “I wanted us to have sex tonight.”

He kisses the back of your neck, more awake now. “Then why didn’t we?”

“I’m on my period, remember?”

“Oh, do you feel too crappy?”

“It’s not that, really. Are you not grossed out?”

“I’m never grossed out when it comes to sex, you know that.” His hand slides under your top, to palm your breast. “Besides, it won’t be the first time I’ve been covered in your blood.”

You groan. “Forget it, I am officially turned off.”

He circles a fingertip around your nipple, until it stiffens. “You sure?”

Heat creeps between your thighs. He rolls his hips into you, his cock poking your ass.

“All right,” you say. “But I’m putting a towel down.”

“Whatever you want.”

You slip from the bed, and shuffle into the bathroom. When you’ve dealt with your sanitary products, you pull a dark towel from the rack, and return to the bedroom.

You shove Sam aside, so you can lay the towel across the bed.

“Where do you want me, your highness?”

You lie back on your side. “I liked it when we were spooning.”

He pulls his shirt up over his head, and tugs his boxers down. He climbs into the bed behind you again, and returns his fingers to your nipple. “Should I be gentle?” he murmurs. “Are you all tender?”

“Yes.”

He refrains from pinching, instead rolling your nipple between his finger and thumb. You sigh in pleasure, the warmth making its way down from your chest to your abdomen.

He runs his hand over your body, up and down your side, before landing on your butt. He squeezes and strokes the plump flesh, groaning in your ear. “I love your ass.”

You squeak. He really needs to stop beginning sentences with those two words.

His hand slides between your legs from behind, his fingers exploring. “Fuck, you’re soaking wet.”

“Shut up, Samuel.” You shiver.

His hand must be all bloody. Maybe he doesn’t mind, from the way he rubs your clit just how you like it.

You moan softly. “Oh, Sam…”

“Call me daddy. I get so fucking hot when you say it.”

“Daddy,” you whine. “That feels so good.”

He groans, and presses his cock against you. “Tell me more.”

“I love the way your fingers feel. Especially when…”

“Don’t stop, baby. Keep talking.”

“When they’re inside me,” you whisper.

“Hmm.” He sinks two fingers into your pussy, and starts to thrust them in and out. “Like this?”

“Yes!”

He keeps pumping, and you clutch your pillow. “C’mon, baby. If you come for me, you can have my cock.”

You push back against him. “Rub my clit again.”

He does, fingers feverish against the slippery nub.

“Daddy…” You pant, and moan, your whole body tightening. “I’m coming!”

You writhe under his hand, orgasming, your nerve endings sparking with pleasure.

He pulls his hand away, wiping it on the towel beneath you. Then, he lines his cock up, and spreads you open, sheathing himself inside your body.

Being joined to him is like sinking into a hot bath. Scalding at first, until you adjust. And then comforting, the tension flowing from your muscles after a long day.

He holds you around the waist again, as he rocks into you. He presses kisses to the back of your neck, and your ear, rolling his hips gently.

Has he ever made love to anyone like this before? You didn’t know he was capable of it.

But he’s tender. Loving, almost, as he fucks you sweet and slow.

He moans, and sighs, his arm pulling you in even closer. “This okay, sweetness? Daddy being gentle enough for you?”

“Yes,” you whisper. Pleasure washes over you like warm water, immersing you up to your neck.

You’ll dunk your head soon. But not yet. You want this moment to last as long as possible.

He returns his hand between your legs, stroking over your clit. “Daddy wants to make you feel good.”

You shove your face into your pillow, burning hot.

The water is rising. You’re about to go under.

He groans. “You just got so tight. You coming for daddy?”

You tremble, moaning, and then your climax submerges you. You’re engulfed in the deluge, the bath running over and soaking the floor.

“Attagirl, baby. God, you’re so sexy.” He kisses the back of your head. “Daddy’s gonna go a bit faster now, okay?”

“Okay.”

He wipes his hand on the towel again, before gripping your hip. He picks up the pace, fucking into you with quicker, shallower thrusts. He pants, breathing getting more ragged as he gets closer to coming.

You don’t have the energy to do much, but you press back against him. You meet him in each pump of his hips, driving him deeper inside.

“Oh, God.” He moans, shaking against you. “Don’t stop.”

You make him feel so good. Your body fits his so well, and draws sounds from his throat that you didn’t even know he could make.

He’s said it before, and he was right: you were always going to end up here. From the moment you met, the pull was undeniable. You’re both the same shade of rebellious.

He grunts, grinding against your ass. He spills his seed inside of you, his hips stilling.

His head thumps onto the pillow behind you, and he lets out a long breath. “Fucking hell. I came so hard.”

You laugh, and snuggle into him when he throws his arm around you again. You’re boneless, and it’d be so nice to just let your eyes slip closed, and fall asleep in his embrace.

And you will, but it’s going to have to wait a little longer.

“The bed must be an absolute crime scene.” You groan, and hide your face in the pillow.

He pulls out, humming as he assesses the damage. “It’s not so bad. C’mon, if we shower together, we’ll be done quicker.”

“That’s what you think.” You haul yourself up, aching all over. “But when I’m soapy and wet, you won’t want to leave.”

He heads into the bathroom, and gets the shower running. “We won’t know that until we try,” he says.

You follow him. You always will, no matter what comes next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in a week, woop
> 
> totally back on my sam drake bullshit 😎
> 
> i hope you enjoyed the chapter!!


	7. Chapter 7

Sam stands in front of the bathroom mirror, prodding at his face gingerly. “I think this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“It’s only been five days,” you say, mouth full of toothpaste. You spit, before continuing, “Your eye still looks like shit.”

“Yeah, but at least my nose isn’t broken.” He eyes you in the mirror. “I don’t care, anyway. I want to go see my brother.”

You nod. This had to happen, sooner or later. “Did… did you want me to be there? Or do you want to go alone?”

“Well, of course I want you to be there.” He kisses your temple. “You can’t let them outnumber me, baby.”

“Us against the world, is that it?”

“I don’t think it’s quite that bad, but yeah.” He waits for you to finish rinsing your mouth, before pulling you into a minty kiss. He looks down at you with gentle eyes. “I want to show you off to my family, you know?”

“You’ve changed your tune,” you say, grinning. “What happened to ‘we are such a bad fucking idea?’”

“Well, things have changed. Haven’t they?” He plays with a lock of your hair. “Victor found out, and the world didn’t end.”

You swallow. “I guess.”

“It’ll all work itself out, sweetheart.” He curls a finger under your chin, when your face falls. “Relax. Nathan will be cool. And hey, Elena already knows, so that’s one down. Cassie adores you, too, so—”

“All right, all right.” You lay a hand on his chest. “I’ll get dressed, and we can go.”

He smiles wide, and fixes you in his heated gaze. “Before that, though… I’ve got some ideas.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“What can I say? You bring that out in me.”

And with that, he lifts you onto the bathroom counter, and spreads your legs.

You sit in the passenger side of Sam’s rental car, your leg bouncing. He’s driving you to Nate and Elena’s house, humming along to the radio, and drumming his fingers on the wheel.

“Hey.” He reaches over, and rests his hand on your knee. “You’re making me nervous, here.”

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m just getting ready for how awkward this is going to be.”

“It’s gonna be fine, what are you talking about?”

“Ooh, let’s see… This will be the first time you’ve seen Elena, since we fucked on her couch. Which she knows about, remember.”

He rolls his shoulders. “Ah, all right. That might be a little awkward, but I don’t—”

“And then there’s the fact you’re essentially going to be asking Nate to take your side, over my uncle’s. You know how close they are.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Add that to the general cringe that is introducing your girlfriend to your family, anyway… and, yeah. I think it’s going to be pretty fucking awkward, don’t you?”

He removes his hand from your knee, white-knuckle gripping the steering wheel instead. “You are just a ray of sunshine today, aren’t you?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve successfully freaked me out. I hope you’re happy.”

You sigh, and rub your hand up and down his thigh. “I’m sorry, honey. I shouldn’t drag you down with me. Misery loves company, right?”

His eyebrows raise. “You really miserable?”

“No! Of course not.”

He turns onto Nate and Elena’s street, and eases into their driveway, alongside their SUV.

He puts the car in park, and angles his body towards yours. “I don’t expect you to be all over-the-moon happy right now. You’ve got a lot to deal with. But… you are happy, right? With me? And with Victor not—”

“Sam.” You reach out for him, your hand curling around the nape of his neck. “I made my choice. It’s you. Okay?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing under your thumb. “Okay.”

You lean in, and lay a light kiss on his bruised nose. “Let’s get in there, then.”

A smile lights up his weary face. “Right.”

You both get out of the car, and sidle up to the front door. Sam pushes the doorbell, and reaches down to squeeze your hand. You squeeze back, but pull away when Nate’s shadowy form appears behind the door’s frosted glass.

Sam looks at you, hurt, and you shrug, mouthing a ‘sorry.’

Nate opens the door, grinning when he sees you. When his eyes reach Sam, however, his brows cinch in tight. “Woah! What happened to your face?”

Sam pats his brother’s shoulder in greeting, stepping past him into the house. “Victor goddamn Sullivan,” he says.

“What? Sully punched you? What the hell happened?” He closes the door behind you, and stands there in the entryway.

Sam nods to you, and turns to Nate. “He, uh, found out about me and…” He loses his nerve, and gestures between the two of you.

Nate follows the movements of his hands, nonplussed. “You and…?” He looks at you.

“Yeah. We’ve been… seeing each other.”

“Seeing each other.” Nate frowns. “What, like, with your eyes?”

Sam sighs. “We’re dating, Nathan.”

Realisation dawns on Nate’s face, all at once. “You what? She’s half your age!”

“I’m also right here.” You raise your hand in a wave.

“Sorry.” Nate squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “Hey. How are you? You good?”

“I’m good.” You bounce on the balls of your feet. “Is Elena here?”

“Yeah, she’s out in the backyard with Cassie.”

“Great!” You stand up on your toes to kiss Sam’s cheek, ignoring the way Nate’s eyebrows shoot sky-high. “I’ll go say hi.”

Sam scoffs. “Abandoning ship already, huh? All right, you can go.”

“Why, thank you.” You throw him a salute, and escape through the kitchen.

Outside, Elena pushes Cassie on the little swing set at the bottom of the garden. She straightens, and waves to you. “Hey!”

You cross the paving stones in the sunshine, joining the two. “Hi.”

“Nate said you might be coming over today.”

“Yeah.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “Sam just told him about us.”

Her eyes widen. “No way. Should we go in there?”

“In a minute? To be honest, I could use an ear.”

She nods. “Of course.”

You bite your lip. What was it you wanted to say? While you mull it over, you crouch down to fuss with Cassie. She mumbles something, wriggling in the swing.

“I totally agree,” you say, tweaking one of her flailing feet.

She giggles, her little face pink with delight.

“So,” Elena says. “Should I teach her to call you ‘Auntie?’”

You stand upright. “Oh, god.”

“Relax, I’m kidding. But you’re serious now, right? Serious enough to be telling people, at least.”

“Yeah, we’re… together.” A little smile emerges as you say the word.

“I’m happy for you!” But then her grin falters. “How did Sully take it?”

“When we go inside, and you see Sam’s black eye, that should answer your question.”

She gasps. “No! They fought? When was this?”

“Sunday morning. And I haven’t heard from my uncle since.”

“Oh, man.” She pushes Cassie in the swing again. “That must be rough. He’ll calm down eventually, though, I’m sure.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” You wrap your arms around yourself. “But you should’ve seen the way he looked at me. He looked… wounded.”

She purses her lips for a moment, then nods her head. “Go inside and tell Nate to make us some coffee,” she says. “Then I’ll put Miss Cassie down for her nap, and you can tell me everything.”

You smile. “Thanks, Elena. I never really thought about it… But without my uncle, I’m kind of alone, these days.”

“You are not.”

Your lip wobbles. What the hell do you say to that? “Thank you.”

Humbled, you shuffle back up the garden path, and push the backdoor open where you’ve left it ajar. Before you step further inside, though, you pause.

Sam and Nate are in the kitchen, talking.

“Look,” Sam says, “I know, all right? But you don’t know what it’s like.”

“What what’s like?”

“I didn’t see a woman for thirteen years, you know? And then one day, I wake up, and I’m forty, for chrissakes. I’m free. But it’s not like my taste changed while I was locked up.”

“I guess. But that was a while ago, now.”

“You really think I’ve matured that much in five years?”

“Okay, good point.”

“But it’s not just that. I’ve got to know her all this time we’ve been working together. She’s…” Sam sighs. “Ah, it doesn’t matter. Victor, eh? Crotchety old bastard.”

“He really did a number on you, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. ‘Son of a bitch’ he called me. You know, that insults you, too.”

“But you can’t really blame him,” Nate says, not laughing. “She’s his niece. How would you feel, if Cassie came to you one day, and told you she was dating a guy twice her age?”

There's a pit forming in your stomach. It's not the same.

“I’d feel like stringing the guy up by his toes. Find out why he can’t get a girl his own age.”

“Right? And it wouldn’t matter how grown up she was; that’s always going to be your first reaction.”

“Yeah...”

“Just give him time to get used to the idea. When he sees you’re serious about—what’s wrong?”

“What the hell am I doing here, Nathan?”

“Uh…”

“She could have anyone in the world, and she picked me. No one’s ever picked me.”

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste. C’mon. You must make her happy.”

“I mean, I hope so. Shit, I hope so. But this whole thing with Victor… She’s hurting, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You just be there for her.”

Sam chuckles humourlessly. “You say that like I have any fucking idea what it means. I’ve never been in this deep before. Not since I was a teenager.”

“Do you love her?”

Your heart thuds. You hold your breath.

But then Elena catches up to you, Cassie on her hip. She smiles at you, and nudges you through the door.

Damn it!

Nate and Sam glance up when you enter the room. Sam’s jaw is clenched, but he manages a tight smile.

The way he looks at you... it's like he's seeing your relationship with new, critical eyes.

Elena hefts Cassie into Nate’s arms. “Nap time,” she says.

“All right, come on, cutie.” He gets up, cooing and babbling to his baby, as he takes her upstairs.

You sit at the table, and take Sam’s hand. He catches your eye, his face unreadable.

Elena smirks at you both. “So, Sam.”

He blanches, before recovering. “Yes, oh sweet sister-in-law?”

“I know what you did to my couch.”

“Well, if we’re being accurate, it was more on your couch, as opposed to—”

“Can it, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He sounds more like himself again.

Or does he? Maybe this joviality is a front, and that cold melancholy is his true self. Maybe you don't know him as well as you think you do.

No. You know him. You know him in ways his family could never.

Elena shakes her head, then busies herself with the coffee maker. “I’ll let you off the hook, just this once,” she says. “It looks like you’ve been put through the ringer already.”

“Why are we all acting like I’ve never been punched in the face before?” He grins, and rolls his shoulders. “You’ve met me, right?”

She gives him a look. “So, tell me. How did you guys spring this on Sullivan?”

You and Sam turn to each other, wincing.

“Hey, I wanna know that, too.” Nate takes the last couple steps down, and rounds into the kitchen. “Sam waved that away when I asked him.”

You gulp, and squeeze Sam’s hand tight.

He looks at you. Don’t worry, baby, his eyes say. He’s got this.

“So, we're having breakfast in this diner…”

It’s late in the evening. You’re back at the motel, and Sam’s been quiet since you left his brother’s house.

He rubs his jaw, deep in thought. He’s angled towards the TV, but his eyes stare past it. You climb onto the bed next to him.

“Are you okay?” You kiss his stubbly cheek.

“Huh?” It’s like he comes back to you from miles away. “Of course, sweetheart.”

You rub his chest under the open collar of his shirt, the hair bristling against your fingers. “You want to make out?”

The hard line of his mouth softens, the corners quirking up. “Well, yeah.”

He’s upset about what Nate said, isn’t he? The little bit you overheard was enough, and who knows what you missed?

But the talking can come later. There’s a much more effective way to distract him.

You turn his face to yours, and kiss him softly. His lips are gentle on yours. At first.

He rolls on top of you, his mouth hungry, his kisses frantic. You clutch at his clothes, the familiar scent of tobacco grounding you, even as he stirs you all up.

He swipes his tongue along the shell of your ear, and you shiver under him. His teeth graze the side of your neck, his breath hot on your skin. Then he leans up on his elbows to look at you, and there’s a permanent frown-line wedged between his brows.

You reach up with gentle hands, smoothing out the lines on his forehead.

He closes his eyes under your touch. “I wish I could’ve met you when I was younger.”

“I don’t. I would’ve been a child, for one thing.”

“You know what I mean. Now I’m so old and wrinkled.”

“No, you’re not.”

Uncle Sully is old and wrinkled. Sam’s just… had a hard life, and it shows on his face.

His eyes open, unimpressed. “My hairline’s receding, for crying out loud.”

“You and eighty percent of other men!” You stare right back at him. “Do you think my eyes don’t work, or something? I know what you look like, Sam.”

“I just—”

“I know who you are, and what you are.” You slide a hand into his hair, and make your voice sultry. “And I want you. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

He says nothing, and hides his face in your neck. His stubble prickles as he kisses his way down, unbuttoning your shirt and pushing it open. You arch your back so he can reach under you to unsnap your bra. He pushes it up towards your throat, your tits bouncing free.

“I won’t stay young and perky forever, you know,” you murmur. “Everything goes south for the winter, eventually.”

He kisses your breasts, and both nipples in turn. He runs his tongue over and around them, switching between them just as you get used to the sensation.

You pant, and squirm. You’re getting all worked up.

He pulls back, and unfastens your jeans. He peels them from you, you lifting your hips to aid him. Your panties go, too.

You open your legs, feet up on the mattress, and you let him see you. He sucks on the inside of his cheek, watching as you slide a finger down to rub your clit.

You shift, sighing, as you put on a show for him. The silence is unusual; normally he’d have something to say right about now. But the burning interest in his eyes lets you know what he’s thinking, anyhow.

You sink a finger inside, moaning for him. He sits back on his haunches, and undoes his fly. He takes his cock in his hand, jerking with a slack fist, matching your pace.

Your breathing comes heavier. His cock grows in his hand, getting bigger and harder with each stroke. You push another finger into yourself, more to see how he’ll react.

He groans, fist tightening as he watches you fuck yourself. You roll your hips into your hand. But it’s not doing it for you like it used to. You haven’t had to make yourself come alone in a month. You don’t want to, either.

You pull your fingers out, and sit up. You reach for him, and he takes you by the wrist. He guides your hand to his mouth, and wraps his lips around your sticky fingers. He keeps eye contact with you, as he sucks your fingers clean.

You swallow. He’s a tiger about to pounce.

He pushes you back, and then wriggles down onto his stomach. He pulls you towards him, his face between your thighs. His slick tongue swirls around your clit, and you gasp.

You grab the pillow beneath you, squeezing as he licks your pussy. His eyes are closed, as he concentrates on undoing you with his tongue.

He humps the mattress as he works you over, moaning in the back of his throat. You reach down with one hand to grab a handful of his hair, and tweak one of your nipples with the other.

God, he knows how to eat pussy.

Guys your own age are always impatient, and frustrated when they can’t get you off.

And Sam wonders what you could possibly get out of fucking an older man.

You moan, long and high, as he swipes the flat of his tongue over your clit, again and again.

You’re going to come.

His hands slide underneath you, holding you tight, as he really buckles down to get you there.

You breathe his name, your chest heaving. His eyes open, and he looks up at you.

That does it.

“Oh, fuck.” You whine, body tingling, as pleasure spasms through you.

Your legs twitch and shake, even after Sam pulls his mouth off of you.

He yanks his shirt over his head, and uses it to wipe his mouth. He shifts to the edge of the bed to divest himself of the rest of his clothes. And then he returns to your arms, still without a word.

His eyes are intense and dark. He pulls your legs together, then up, over one of his shoulders. You don’t mind the stretch; you’re plenty flexible, but he pushes the breath out of your lungs when he bears down on you.

You reach out for him, curling your hand around his cheek. He nuzzles into your touch, and kisses your palm.

His gentleness always soothes you, and you lie back against the pillows, waiting for what he’ll do next.

Without a warning, he cants his hips. His cock pushes into you, making you groan.

He grunts, his jaw setting, as he fucks you like this. You’re bent in half beneath him, jackknifed, almost. He gets so deep inside of you with each thrust. It’s hard to breathe.

He rips a strangled moan from your throat, and he squeezes his eyes shut, pounding into you with more force.

All you can do is hold on for the ride, as he takes his pleasure from your body. You’re still tingly and pliant from your orgasm, so you let him work himself up to his boiling point.

He moans with each thrust in, his voice high and desperate.

“Come on, Samuel,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

He shudders, your name on his lips as he succumbs to his climax. He hangs his head, and sags against you, your legs slipping from his shoulder.

You wrap your arms around him. He pants in your ear, his hips still rutting in muted thrusts, as the aftershocks run their course.

He stills at last, drained. He blinks bleary eyes, and rolls off of you.

You swallow. It’s later; the talking part is supposed to come now, right?

But you don’t know what to say.

He doesn’t move, and soon his breathing evens out. He’s fallen asleep.

You reach over to grab the remote, and turn off the TV. The room is dark and quiet.

Soon enough, you’re asleep too.

You wake up in the dark, skin prickling. You look over, and Sam’s there, leaning up on an elbow. His eyes gleam in the low light.

“Were you watching me sleep?” you mumble, your tongue heavy in your mouth.

He blows out a puff of air. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” You turn to face him.

He doesn’t say a word.

You’re so close you’re breathing the same air, but it’s like you’re a world apart. You’re losing him.

You shuffle closer to his warm body, and tilt your head up to kiss him.

He always kisses you back instantly. Always.

But not this time.

He’s carved in ice beside you. Can you thaw him back to life?

You wrap yourself around his body, and when his mouth resists yours, you kiss the birds on his neck instead. His heart thumps beneath his breast, and his cock stirs with renewed interest when you move against him.

“You don’t have to talk to me,” you whisper. “But I’m here. Where are you?”

His arms wind around your waist. “I’m here, sweetness.”

He kisses you until you’re breathless. He settles between your legs, cradling you in his arms. Not for a second does he let up his impassioned kiss.

His cock lies heavy against your inner thigh, and your stomach quivers in excitement.

This will work. This is how you get him back to you.

“What do you want?” he says, gazing down at you with heat in his sad eyes.

“You. Just you.” You press your lips to his again. “Please, Sam.”

He’s not daddy tonight, and you’re not his baby. You’re just two lovers, taking shelter in each other.

This time, when he enters you, he’s gentle. Your bodies move together in rhythm, sensual and sweet. You indulge each other with soft words and caresses, climbing towards the peak of your pleasure.

He kisses you again, rolling his hips faster. You’re so close.

You moan.

“Oh, you like that, huh?” He doesn’t let up, nailing your g-spot with each thrust.

You can’t form a reply, your mind cloudy with lust. You wrap your legs around him, your toes curling.

He’s pressed so tight against you. There’s no room to sneak a finger to your clit.

But maybe you don’t need to.

He rocks into you, a whine caught in the back of his throat, and that’s it. You’re done for.

You squeeze his shoulder tight, your other hand drawing lines down his back with your fingernails. Your face burns, your pulse pounding in your ears. Your mouth hangs open in a silent gasp, as your body clenches around him.

You’ve never come this hard.

“You did like that, didn’t you?” His eyes are wild as he watches you come down.

You tilt your head up, searching for a kiss. He obliges, his chest rumbling.

His own orgasm seems to sneak up on him all at once. He groans, and collapses against you, spent.

You kiss his temple, and run your fingers through his sweaty hair.

He’s come back to you, hasn’t he? Like you knew he would.

You can ignore that twitchy thought that lurks out of sight.

There’s nothing wrong that you can’t fix.

Right?

Because you love him.

Wait, what?

You only think that because he just fucked your brains out.

No. That’s not it.

Earlier, when Nate asked him if he loved you… you knew what you wanted the answer to be.

You want him to love you, the same way you love him.

Stupidly. Completely.

He’s still joined to you, still blanketing your body with his own. This close, your hearts thud together, next to one another.

Say it.

Now is the perfect moment to say it.

God, does your mouth even remember how to form the words?

“I…”

He lifts his head, looking at you in the dark.

You swallow. “I… you’re crushing me.”

He chuckles. “Sorry. I’ll get up.”

Damn it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want these idiots to be happy 😭😭
> 
> thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed the chapter!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter exists thanks to the wonderful [honeydewdrop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeydewdrop/pseuds/honeydewdrop)
> 
> thank you for all of your help!

You turn over in bed, and reach out to curl your arm around the warm body next to you.

Except Sam’s not there.

The sheets are cold, and he’s not between them.

You sit up, and rub your eyes. It feels early.

Sam comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed. He’s even wearing his jacket, like he’s going somewhere. Maybe he wanted to surprise you with breakfast.

“What time is it?” you say, yawning.

“Listen, baby…” He reconsiders, and calls you by name instead. “I need to talk to you. Will you, uh, put some clothes on?”

“Huh?” You cover yourself with the comforter, suddenly vulnerable and exposed in a way you just aren’t with him. “Sure, okay.”

You glance around the room, looking for one of his t-shirts to slip into. There’s always one or two laying around somewhere.

But they're gone. There’s nothing.

What, is he sneaking out to the laundromat, or something?

You get up, defiant in your nakedness. He coughs, and averts his eyes.

Something is really fucking wrong, here.

You root around in your bag, finding some clothes and pulling them on.

“Okay,” you say, turning to him. “You’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”

He looks at you then, his head tipped low in shame. “We can’t do this anymore.”

“What?”

“It’s not right. I should never have broken my promise to Victor. And I should never have come between the two of you.”

You shake your head. “Is this about what Nate said yesterday? When he compared me to Cassie?”

“You heard that?”

“Yes. You know it’s not the same, right?”

He shrugs. “How is it not the same?”

“Because that’s imaginary, and this isn’t! You can’t just make up a scenario, and then compare it to us. None of those feelings are real. We are.”

“Look, it’s not just about that. I had to take a step back, look at my actions. What am I doing, messing around with someone your age?”

“We’re not messing around.” Your voice wobbles. “I love you.”

His blank expression crumbles, pain twisting his features. “Please, baby.”

You sniff. “Don’t call me ‘baby.’ I’m not a kid.”

“I know, I know.”

“You can’t leave me. Not now. Not after everything.”

“We could never work.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “Maybe in another life.”

“That’s bullshit. Another life? What’s wrong with this one?”

He waves a hand dismissively. “I don’t have anything to offer you. You don’t want to be stuck with someone who’ll be old and grey before you’re thirty.”

“Who cares about shit like that? Do you think I’m that shallow?”

“You’re not shallow. But you don’t think rationally when it comes to me.”

“Oh, fuck you, Sam.” You cross your arms tight over your chest. “You’re not my fucking keeper. I can make my own choices.”

“Well, so can I.”

You swallow down the traitorous whimper that threatens to escape your throat. Tears prick your eyes, and you scrape them away with the backs of your hands.

This can’t be happening.

“So, what was last night? Did that even mean anything to you?”

“Of course it did! Every single moment with you means something to me.”

“Then… why?”

He takes a step towards you, his arm lifting a little, like he’s going to reach out. He aborts the attempt, and runs his hand through his hair instead. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he says.

You clench your jaw. “Well, you did.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Get out. Go look for your next girl of the year. Shouldn’t take too long, with your track record.”

He shoulders his duffel bag, and makes for the door. He turns back to you at the last moment. “I—”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.”

He nods, and sees himself out.

The door clicks closed behind him.

His car door slams, and the engine starts up.

But you wait until the sound of the tires on the asphalt fades away.

That’s when you let yourself cry.

You spark up another cigarette, and take a swig of your beer. Day-drinking and chain-smoking in your motel parking lot? This is a new high for you.

Samuel Drake. That man was always a fucking disaster.

Your eyes sting, but you are done crying for him. You’re done with everything.

You just want your uncle.

You put down your beer with a clunk, and go back to staring at your phone. Call him. Do it.

But it’s mortifying. You chose Sam over him, and look where that got you. Now you need to go crawling back.

Maybe Uncle Sully was right all along.

You hit call, before you can second guess yourself again. Will he even pick up?

It’s ringing.

Your palms sweat.

“Hello, darlin,” he says, and it’s like coming home.

“Hey.” You choke up at hearing him, and wipe your wet eyes.

“What’s wrong? Are you crying?”

You sniff. “Sam left me.”

“He what?”

“He broke up with me, and he left.” You force your breathing to remain steady. “I told him I loved him, and he just…”

“That bastard,” Uncle Sully growls. “Where are you now?”

“I’m at my motel. The usual place.”

“Give me a few hours. I’m coming to get you.”

Your nose is all blocked and stuffy. “Please.”

“You just sit tight, all right? I’ll be there before you know it.”

You stay there for a while longer, until your beer is empty, and the nervous thump of your heart has quietened some.

Time to drag yourself back inside. Pack your stuff up, and leave this shithole behind.

You pass the next few hours on autopilot.

How could Sam leave you like that? Just yesterday, the thought of showing you off to his brother excited him!

God. Nate and Elena where happy for you, yesterday. One more so than the other, sure. But now what?

What was the point of any of that, for him to throw it all away one day later?

What was the point of sneaking around behind your uncle’s back? Or getting threatened by Gil Dominguez?

Why have you spent the last week hurting? You spoiled the apple of your uncle’s eye, and for what?

You bite your lip, blinking away the resurging tears. Nope. No more crying!

But at last, there comes a knock on your door. You shuffle over to answer it, stomping down the sick hope that it might be Sam.

He made his choice.

You both have to live with it.

You pull the door open. Your uncle Sully stands there, stalwart in the late afternoon sun.

He takes in your bedraggled appearance with sad eyes. “Oh, come here.”

You wrap your arms around him and lay your head on his chest. He always smells the same, and it’s the most comforting cocktail.

He rubs your back, and sighs, his breath ruffling your hair. “First things first,” he says. “Do I need to hunt that lowlife down?”

“No.” You sniffle. “He’s not worth your time.”

“All right.” He pulls away. “Second things second. I’m taking you to dinner.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to eat.”

“Then I’m taking you for a drink. Come on, let’s get you out of this dank room.”

You never even opened the curtains today. Have you really been sitting in the dark all this time? Over some guy? Who even are you anymore?

“Okay. Yeah, let’s go.”

You nurse your glass of scotch, awkward in your seat.

There’s so much you want to say to your uncle. But where to start?

He’s across from you, his knees almost touching yours at the little table for two. He keeps looking up, like he wants to say something, as well.

He sighs. “I missed you, kid.”

“I missed you too.”

“And I’m sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean a word of it.”

You smile for him. “I know. But you were right. I can be a bit of a handful.”

He waves that away. “Nonsense. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. You’re a grown woman, and you’re going to do things that I don’t always agree with, or like. But I love you, and that means loving every part of you. Even the parts that aren’t what I thought they were.”

You reach for a napkin to wipe your face again. “Why did you have to go and say that?” you say through your tears and runny nose.

He smiles at you, as fond as he ever has. “You’ll be all right, darlin.”

“Yeah.”

“So, do you want to tell me what happened?”

You shrug. “What’s to tell? I fell in love with him, and he didn’t feel the same about me.”

“He said that?”

“Not in so many words. But if he loved me, he wouldn’t have walked out like that. He would have listened.”

“I’m glad I punched him. I should never have introduced you two.”

You glug down more of your drink, letting it numb you further. “You didn’t trust him, did you?”

“I knew him when he was a young man. You could argue his heart was in the right place, even if nothing else was. He always looked out for his brother, no matter what trouble that brought him. But when he came back, after being thought dead for fifteen years? He was different.”

“He changed? What do you mean?”

He swirls the ice in his glass. “There is a hollow inside of that man, and it won’t ever disappear. No matter how much you, or I, or his family try to fill it in.”

“I thought I was doing a pretty good job. God, how could I be so stupid?”

“He’s a charmer, kid. You’ve seen him with women, using them up, before moving on to the next one. I never wanted that for you.”

You pick at a hangnail on your finger. “So, you think he was just using me… like a battery? To keep himself energised?”

“There comes a time in your life, when you’ll do anything to feel young again. Happens to us all, before we calm down and make peace with being silver foxes.” He grins.

You roll your eyes. “Right.”

“You sure you don’t want me to kick his ass, darlin? It wouldn’t make you feel better?”

You shake your head. “I just miss him. I got so used to having him around, even before we… got together.”

His eyes narrow. “And, ah, when was that, anyway?”

“Just over a month ago. God, am I overreacting? We were hardly a long-term thing.”

“You’ve known him for a long time. The pair of you were thick as thieves this last year. If you’ll pardon the expression.”

“Yeah. We were.” You bite your lip, and fall silent.

After a couple of hours, your head is pleasantly cloudy. Uncle Sully walks you back to your room, and all but puts you to bed.

He pats your arm. “In the morning, I’m getting a substantial breakfast in you. You get some sleep, and I’ll go find myself a room.”

“Okay.” You watch him go, and then you’re alone in the room that you shared with Sam.

In the bed where you made love.

It’s too quiet. The loneliness is suffocating.

You turn on the TV, and put the volume at a low murmur.

You toss and turn, tears pricking your eyes and drying on your cheeks. Rinse and repeat. Eventually though, fitful sleep finds you.

Elena calls you a few days later, while you’re zoned-out in the passenger side of Uncle Sully’s car. At first, you don’t want to answer.

“You should talk to her,” he says. “It’d do you some good to have a girlfriend.”

So you light a cigarette, and work up the courage.

“Hey,” you say, not bothering to hide the dull monotone of your voice.

“Hey.” Compassion radiates, even from the single syllable. “How are you holding up?”

“You’ve spoken to Sam, then?”

God, saying his name stings.

“Yeah. He told us what happened. His version, anyway. I’m assuming it’s more or less accurate.”

“Probably.” You blow out a long stream of smoke, through the open window. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“That’s fine. But if you change your mind, I’m here, okay?”

“Okay.” You angle yourself away from your uncle, in case he gives you a disapproving look for what you say next. “Elena, how… how was he? How did he seem to you?”

Sure enough, Uncle Sully sighs beside you. He should just focus on the road and mind his own business! So what if Sam’s doing fine, and it breaks your heart even further? You need to know.

“He’s been really quiet and withdrawn, actually,” she says. “He puts on a brave face sometimes, but Nate said he’s never seen him like this.”

“Really?” How sick are you that you want to smile? “Wait. Is he staying with you, or something?”

“Yeah. I hope that isn’t a problem.”

“You’re his family, I understand. God, everything’s awkward now, isn't it? Because of me.”

“Hey, it takes two to tango,” she says. “Not to mention that I encouraged you.”

“You’re admitting that it’s awkward, though.”

She chuckles, caught. “Just give it time. How ever you feel right now, give it some time.”

“Right. Time.” You sigh. “I got plenty of that.”

The first couple of weeks without Sam were the worst. But you scroll through his old messages less and less now. And you’re getting used to working with your uncle, without him acting as a buffer between you.

You still can’t get yourself off without thinking about him, though. And then wallowing in the shame and loneliness that follows. But you’re hopeful. Any day now.

You step into the little family-run pizzeria, the bell above the door jangling. The reviews for this place online were amazing, but it’s almost empty.

Times are tough.

The old man behind the counter smiles when you approach. “Good evening,” he says. “How are you tonight?”

“I’m good.” As if you’re going to answer honestly. “How’s it going?”

He glances around the bare establishment. “Oh, never better.” His eyes crinkle with the joke.

“I’m picking up an order, under Victor Sullivan.”

“Ah, let me go and check on that for you.”

“Thanks.”

He disappears into the back, and you lean against the counter to wait.

The smell coming from the kitchen is mouth-watering. It’s kind of nostalgic, too. Familiar in some way.

It’s just generic, cheesy pizza smell. But it’s almost triggering a memory.

When was the last time you had pizza?

Your eyes land on a stack of pizza boxes on the shelf. You’ve seen the design on them before, somewhere.

But you’ve never ordered from this place. Have you?

Weird. But whatever.

The old man returns to you with a smile. “Should be ready in five more minutes.”

“Cool, thanks.”

The bell chimes behind you again, as another customer comes in from the cold.

“Ah, Samuel!” The old man’s face lights up. “Your order is all ready for you. Just a moment!” He scurries back into the kitchen, leaving you alone with this… ‘Samuel.’

It couldn’t be… could it?

He advances, stride purposeful, until he’s beside you at the register.

You’d know that cologne anywhere, mixed with stale cigarettes. The same brand you used to smoke.

You forget to breathe.

He clears his throat. “Hey, doll.”

You haven't heard his voice in weeks. It hits you like a slap to the cheek.

“Please don’t call me that,” you whisper, swallowing down the rising bile.

“You’re right, I can’t believe I said that. I’m sorry.”

You turn to look at him, and your heart still seizes in that way it always did when you were together.

God, he’s still so handsome. And tall. You’d forgotten how much he towered over you. His black eye is mostly gone now; a tinge of yellow all that remains of the bruise.

His mouth curls into some sad facsimile of a smile. “You look great.”

No, you don’t. Your hair’s about two days too old, and you’ve got a zit forming on your chin. Why the fuck did you have to bump into him tonight?

Why the fuck did you have to bump into him at all?

You were getting over him. You were!

“How’ve you been?” He’s never been good with uncomfortable silences.

Your hands clench into fists. “You don’t get to ask me that anymore, Sam.”

His jaw tightens, and he nods. “All right.”

Let him hurt. He should. The same way he made you hurt.

The old man emerges from the kitchen once more, balancing pizza boxes in each hand. “For the gentleman,” he says, sliding one towards Sam. “And for the lady.” He places the other in front of you.

You fight down the memories. Memories of Sam, a horror movie on the TV, the plushness of the couch beneath you as he…

No. Stop it.

You pick up the box. Thank god you paid online so you don’t have to spend another second here.

“Thanks,” you say, forcing a smile for the sake of politeness.

But then you duck out of there, fast as you can.

Safely back in your car, you grip the steering wheel until your hands shake.

God fucking damn it.

You need to sweet talk your uncle into taking you somewhere abroad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof this was a heavy chapter. thank you for sticking through to the end of it 🖤🖤
> 
> happier times are ahead!.... maybe


	9. Chapter 9

It’s been a crazy three months. After bumping into your ex in that pizzeria, you begged Uncle Sully to find you a job as far away from Sam as possible.

He reconnected with some contacts in Southeast Asia. Soon enough, he had you embroiled in a smuggling operation in Singapore.

After that, you flew out to the Philippines for some sun and sandy beaches. Then you spent a few weeks in South Korea, your uncle impressing you with his grasp on the language.

Now, you’re in Japan, just in time for cherry blossom season in Tokyo.

And what’s more? You’re happy.

You’re yourself again.

Do you still have bad days? Of course. You didn’t just lose a lover that day Sam Drake walked out on you, but one of your only friends. Sometimes, when you lie awake at night, the urge to reach out to him is so strong you almost can’t resist it.

But you know how to live without him now. It’s not always easy, but you rise to the challenge.

You’ve dragged your uncle to see the cherry blossoms today. It’s the last thing you wanted to do before moving on and looking for another job.

“God, this is so gorgeous.” You crane your head, taking in the canopy of soft pink petals. “We’re coming back for the night viewing too, by the way.”

Uncle Sully grins. “Whatever you say, darlin.”

You take out your phone. “Will you take a picture of me? Elena wants to see some photos.”

“Hand it here, then.”

You pass him your phone, and then strike a pose against the backdrop of blossoms. You’ve trained him well; he takes several shots, so that you can pick the best one to keep.

“Thanks.” You smile, flicking through the photos.

If you were to keep scrolling, you’d come to those pictures of Sam that you haven’t been brave enough to delete yet. It’s almost time.

But not yet.

You’ll delete them the same day you stop replaying that last conversation in your head. Sometimes you like to imagine all the different things you should have said.

It wasn’t fair of him to spring it on you like he did. He didn’t give you any time to come up with something witty and hurtful.

You’ve come up with plenty since.

But fuck it if you don’t miss that idiot sometimes. He was a fun guy to have around, and he always knew how to make you laugh. The sex was out of this world, too.

Occasionally, you’ll wonder to yourself what you’d do if you saw him again. What you’d say. How you’d feel. Would it still hurt?

Damn, you’ve been thinking about him too much. You can almost hear his voice amongst the crowd.

Wait. No way.

You turn your head slowly, listening.

“Uh, sumimasen. Sorry, sorry. Excuse me. Gomen!”

There’s a flurry of movement, bodies bustling out of the way of the tall, Western man in their midst.

“Sam?” Your mouth hangs open.

What the hell is he doing here? Did you summon him with your momentary pining?

His eyes widen as they land on you, and he breaks into a grin. “There you are,” he breathes.

“I’ll be goddamned.” Your uncle brushes your arm with his. “How are you wanting to handle this?”

You smile up at him. “I’ll talk to him. Catch up with you later?”

“All right. Call me if you need me.” He strides past Sam. “Samuel,” he says, nodding.

“Victor. Hey.” Sam watches him go, before turning back to you. “I—”

“Walk with me.” You turn to continue along the path, waiting for him to find his way to your side. “I’m not missing out on the sakura for anyone. Not even you.”

He chuckles. “Far be it from me to deny a pretty lady her pretty flowers.”

You laugh too, surprised at the ease of it all. You sneak a peek at him out of the corner of your eye, and damn.

He looks good. Strong, like he’s been working out again. The t-shirt he wears under his flannel stretches across his broad chest. Heat creeps up your neck, even now.

Keep it together, girl.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He brushes a stray petal from his shoulder. “I needed to see you. There’s something I gotta say. I, uh, persuaded Elena to tell me where you were.”

“Elena told you?”

“She took some convincing, believe me. I landed in Tokyo today, and she told me you were here for the cherry blossoms. So, I’ve been running all over this park trying to find you.”

Your pulse quickens. Elena wouldn’t let him come after you just to hurt you... Would she? And he wouldn’t fly all the way out here for no reason... Would he?

“You must have something really important to say.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Well, it’s been nearly four months since we broke up. What's took you so long?”

The two of you step onto the wooden bridge, the crystalline river burbling beneath you. Sam walks a few paces ahead, finding an empty space along the bridge’s railing and leaning there.

You follow him, and you stand shoulder to shoulder. Your reflections are mirror-perfect in the clear water.

He sighs. “I kept thinking I’d get over you if I waited long enough. That if I just gave it another few weeks, I’d learn how to live without you. But I can’t.”

“You… can’t?”

“And so, I thought, I’ll just wait for you to come back from Asia. Then I’ll find you, and we can talk. But then it hit me: what if you never came back? And I guess I panicked.”

A tremulous smile quirks at the corners of your mouth. “I’m still not getting why you flew seven thousand miles to tell me this.”

“I’m getting there, all right? Look…” He takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. He must be jonesing for a cigarette. “I… I love you. And now, I don’t know if you still feel that way about me. You said you did, once, but... I mean, I totally understand if you hate my guts, and—”

“Why would I hate your guts?" You purse your lips, before going in for the kill. "For leading me on, and saying you wanted to be with me? For tricking me into thinking you wanted a real relationship? By telling your brother about us—only to dump me a day later?” You let his anguished expression fuel you. “Or maybe for the way you cast aside my autonomy, so you could do ‘what was best’ for me and my future?”

Tirade finished, the indistinct chatter of the crowd surrounds you once more. He hangs his head, brow creased. But it doesn’t feel like you thought it might. It’s not as satisfying as you imagined it would be.

“I don’t hate you,” you say. “Not anymore, anyway.”

“You don’t?”

You shake your head.

His shoulders relax their ramrod-straight line. “And, uh, the other thing I said…”

“Which part?” You bite your lip against a smile.

He raises his eyebrows. “You want me to say it again? All right. I love you. I am stupidly in love with you.”

You look down at the water, your cheeks as pink as the fallen sakura petals floating along the river. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I know it’s been a long time, but… How do you feel about me?”

“I do still love you,” you murmur. “But sometimes—”

He cuts you off with a startled laugh. “Sorry, I’m just—you still love me? Wow. I, uh… huh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. God, I… You were saying?”

You swallow your answering giddiness. This is important. “Sometimes love isn’t enough, Sam.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I loved you before, and you still walked out on me.” You ignore his grimace, and push on. “Tell me the real reason you’re here. Did you just want to get that off your chest? Or are you wanting to get back together? What’s going on?”

He turns to you, reaching out a hand to lay on your shoulder. When you don’t pull away, he squeezes.

“I just want to be yours again,” he says, eyes fixed to your own.

You’re captive in his gaze. “I want that too.”

His face lights up with a grin. “You do?”

“But I want a real relationship. If we’re doing this, I want a commitment. If you can’t promise me that, then—”

“I promise.”

“Huh?”

He takes your other shoulder, and stares down at you with earnest eyes. “I swear to you, right now, that I want to make this work. That I’m gonna make it work.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

You swallow. “Why couldn’t you have come to this conclusion before? Do you know how hard it’s been to get over you?”

He lets go of you, and leans against the railings again. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what was wrong with me. I just—I’ve never been in love, all right? Not really. I wanted to protect you, and do what I thought was right, at the time. I was crazy, and in love, and stupid, and I thought I was doing what was best for you. I wanted you to be happy.”

“Well, you missed that mark by a mile,” you say. “What’s changed?”

“Now I want to be the one that makes you happy. When you smile, I want it to be because of me.” He looks to you. “I mean, if that’s what you want, too.”

You nod. “I think I could live with that. But you know some things haven’t changed, right? Our age gap hasn’t magically closed. And my uncle’s probably going to give you the permanent stink-eye from now on.”

“I can handle Victor,” he says. “I’m gonna prove to him that I can be good to you. And it’s like you said back in Mexico; our lives aren’t normal. Things being what they are, I’d never be happy settling down with some soccer mom, you know?”

“I know. Somehow, I don’t think ‘soccer mom’ is on the cards for me, either.”

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he says, moving in close. “I missed you so much.”

You duck away from him at the last second, remembering where you are. “Woah! You can’t do that. Public displays of affection are pretty rude here.”

“What, seriously? I can’t kiss the woman I love?”

“Not here, you can’t.”

“Then where?”

You smirk up at him, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. “Where are you staying?”

Sam unlocks his room with the keycard, and pushes the door open. “After you, my love.”

You step around him, beaming. “This place is swish.” You shoot him a look over your shoulder. “Were you expecting company?”

“Well, I mean…” The corner of his mouth pulls up into a cocky grin.

The door locks with a snap.

You’re alone.

Oh, god.

He crosses the lush carpet, his eyes burning with purpose. “Can I kiss you now?”

Here it is. The point of no return.

You throw your arms around his neck, and tug him down to your level, sealing your lips over his. He smiles against your mouth, before wrapping you up in his arms. He kisses you like he’s thought of nothing else for four months.

“Promise me,” you whisper, between his passionate kisses. “Promise me I’m not making a mistake here.”

“I promise, sweetness.” He holds you to him, resting his cheek on your head. “I have never felt like this before. I feel like my chest’s gonna burst open, like in Alien.”

You bury your face in his chest, your shoulders wracked with giggles. “That’s so romantic.”

“You’re laughing, but I’m serious. When I’m with you, it’s like my head’s about to explode.”

“I feel the same way,” you say, swaying in his embrace.

He chuckles into your hair. “You’re just more composed about it.”

You look up at him.

Say it. It’s okay to say it.

“I love you.”

His face splits into a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I love you too. So damn much.”

You fall together again, and you kiss him deeper. You moan when he uses his tongue, and then you shove his flannel from his shoulders.

“Are you sure?” he says, even as he shrugs the rest of the way out of the shirt.

You drag his t-shirt up, exposing his abs and his trim waist. “I’m sure.”

He throws his t-shirt across the room, and then gets to unbuttoning your blouse. The garment opens to him, and your chest tightens.

“What is it?” He trails a finger up your sternum, and over the cup of your bra. “Are you nervous?”

You laugh. “Yes. Isn’t that stupid?”

“If it is, then I’m stupid, too.” He tilts your head up to look at him. “Hey. It’s you and me. How many times have we done this?”

“At least eight.”

He snorts. “At least. We got this, baby. Right down to a science.”

Baby.

You shiver.

You wrest your blouse from your body, and then stand up on your toes to kiss his jaw. “Will you show me how much you love me, daddy?”

He groans. “Every damn day, if you’ll let me.”

His kisses, full of want, are a panacea against all the hurt that came before.

He undresses you the rest of the way with gentle hands, and then lays you down on the luxurious bed. The press of his skin against yours is tender and calming, but desire licks through you all the same.

He kisses your cheek, then rolls off you to remove his pants. Looking down, he says, “Do you want me to wear a condom?”

You swallow, and sit up. “That depends. Have you been with anyone else?”

God. Why did you ask that? You should never ask questions you don’t want the answer to. And it’s not as if you’d expect him to be celibate all these months, you were broken up, after all. But—

“There hasn’t been anyone else, baby.”

You let out a breath. “Same here.”

“So…?”

“Forget the condom, and come to bed.”

He strips out of his pants, and then joins you between the sheets. You thumb the star tattoo on his chest. Then you're curling your fingers in his hair and dragging him down for more kisses.

“You like my tattoos, don’t you?” he mumbles against your lips.

“I like the meanings they have. And they’re kind of hot.”

“Maybe I should get another one.” He kisses your neck, and then sucks on your earlobe. “I’m thinking a big, red heart, with your name in the centre.”

“Shut up, you idiot.” You crane your neck so he can trail his teeth down to your clavicle.

“Aw, and I was gonna let you decide where I’d get it.”

You know one way to stop him running his mouth. For a moment, anyway.

You reach down and take him in your hand, pumping him just how he likes.

He hums, and shifts so you can get a better grip. Under your touch, he grows harder, and an answering heat surges between your thighs. He’s yours.

You rub his cock, and trace your fingers over the sensitive head. His hips wriggle, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Ah, I missed you,” he says, and then he looks at you ruefully. “This probably isn’t going to last very long.”

You grin at him, licking your thumb before returning it to his slit. “That’s what every girl wants to hear.”

He chuckles, rolling his hips into your hand. “Well, I don’t care about every girl. I only care about one girl.”

“Your girl,” you whisper, before pulling him on top of you.

His fingers find you wet, and he groans. “Yeah. That’s my girl.” He circles your clit with his thumb, and you sigh at his touch.

“I want you inside.” You grab him by the wrist and direct his hand. “Sometime this century, you know?”

“Why you in such a rush? We’ve got all the time in the world.”

You bite your lip. “I just… I’ve missed you. I need you.”

Lust clouds his playful expression. “You don’t have to say another word.” He slides a finger into your heat, propping himself up on an elbow so he can watch your face. “God, you’re perfect.”

No, you’re not. You want to laugh, sass him back, maybe. But then he squeezes two more fingers up into you, and the stretch leaves you breathless.

You told yourself you didn’t need him. And maybe you didn’t. But you want him, and you trust him. You’re not denying yourself any longer. The hurt isn’t worth it.

Not when you could be feeling like this instead.

He bites his lip, still watching you with his hungry eyes. He always has this way of making you feel like you’re the only girl in the world.

“All right, sweetness. I’m gonna make you feel so good. You ready for daddy to make love to you?”

You whimper, and bring your hand up to caress his cheek. “Do it.”

He moves above you, and you open your legs for him to slide between. His arms circle you, and he angles his hips, slicking his cock with your wetness.

You kiss him, your fingers tangling in his hair. You move with him, both of you desperate for him to be inside.

He shifts, pushing, but after a few moments he’s still no closer to entering you.

He looks down at you, his eyes furtive. “I know it’s been a while, but I didn’t think I’d have forgotten how to do it.”

You snort. “I believe in you.”

“Hmph.” He backs off, and shoves the duvet away. He moves your legs, pushing your knees towards your chest. “Hold them open like this.”

“Okay.” You grab the backs of your knees, and look up at him expectantly. “I could just ride you, if that would make it easier on you, old man.”

“Old man?” His eyes travel down your body, taking in your pouting breasts. His gaze settles on your pussy. “No, I’m perfectly capable of taking what’s mine, baby.”

“Then go for it.” You wiggle your toes at him. “You know, while we’re young.”

He raises his eyebrows, and shakes his head. But then he’s grinning. One hand thumps into the pillow by your head, holding him up, and he takes his cock in the other. He jerks himself off, drinking in the sight of your body, open and waiting for him.

You watch him, your core clenching in anticipation. You hold your breath.

His eyes meet yours, and he smirks, caught. Without another word, he lines himself up.

At last. At last, he pushes inside, his cock sliding home and hitting deep. Both of you gasp, relief plastered on your faces, to finally be one again.

“God, you feel like heaven.” He groans, and then rolls his hips.

Your hands knead your legs. You throw your head back, moaning, as he fucks you slow and strong.

“Oh, I’ve missed that moan.” His jaw tightens, and he ruts into you harder. His skin slaps against yours.

You let go of your legs so you can wrap them around him, crossing your ankles behind his back. Your hands scrabble for purchase, eventually squeezing around his biceps. They’re bigger than they were before.

Your heart is full to bursting, so overcome with emotion. He loves you. He really loves you. He says it every way he possibly can; with his words, with his eyes, with the way he moves his body. You respond in kind; with your kisses, with your caresses, with the way you hold him tight.

His breathing is ragged, in keeping with the franticness of his thrusts. “I told you this wasn’t gonna last long,” he says.

You moan. The knowledge that you’ve driven him right to the edge already feeds your lust. Even if he came right this second, you wouldn’t be far behind.

He drops onto his side, pulling you with him. He holds you close, looking into your eyes as he indulges you with his cock. You whine, and grind your hips with him. Your clit finds friction against him, and the two of you work each other up to a fever pitch.

“Oh, baby.” He grunts, hips pumping, his eyes wild. “I’m gonna come. Tell me…” A sharp thrust makes him moan. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.” You’re right there with him, both of you teetering on the edge, neither one of you willing to go without the other. “Come inside me, daddy.”

“Fuck.” His face flushes with pleasure, his movements becoming sweet and languid as his climax runs through him.

You shudder as orgasm wracks you, your legs squeezing the breath out of him as your whole body goes tight.

He rolls you onto your back, and kisses a line up your shoulder and neck, ending in your lips. His cock stays wedged inside, and he collapses against you, his head on your chest.

You card your fingers through his hair, as you try to catch your breath. “That was fucking spectacular.”

He giggles, doped up on endorphins. “Yeah, it really was.”

“Just so you know,” you murmur, tugging his hair lightly. “If you break my heart again, I’ll let my uncle hunt you down this time.”

“Uh…”

You grin. Nothing is better than getting under his skin. Well, almost nothing.

“They’d never find your body, Sam.”

He hauls himself up, slotting his body at your side. His legs tangle with yours. “I’m so in love with you.”

You kiss him, soft and affectionate. God, when you woke up this morning, you never imagined you’d end up here.

Your phone rings, and you reach down to root around for it in your discarded purse. It’s your uncle, and you settle back against the pillows to answer it.

“Hey, Uncle Sully.”

“Well, you’re not crying, so I’ll take that as a good sign.”

“A very good sign, yes.” You smile at Sam’s worried expression. You’re not hiding anymore.

“You two talked then, I take it?”

“Yes.”

“So, ah, should I wait up?”

“No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaaa i told you this chapter would be more cheerful!
> 
> i really hope you liked it 🖤🖤🖤


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